WHERE    DWELLS 
THE  SOUL  SERENE 

'ON  DAVIS  KIRKHAM 


presented  to  the 
UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 

by 

From  the  Estate  of 


MY»C 


A  vrn  Q     1 


n  ~\  Vi  o  r>"\ 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE 
SOUL  SERENE 

BY 

STANTON  DAVIS  KIRKHAM 

AUTHOR  OF 

"THE  MINISTRY  OF  BEAUTY" 
"AS  NATURE  WHISPERS" 

Spiritual  poise  arises  from  the  inner 
controlling  conviction  that  Love  is 
the  one  defense  against  all  that 
aims  at  man's  integrity  to  himself. 


PAUL  ELDER  AND  COMPANY 

SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1900 
by  STANTON  DAVIS  KIRKHAM 

Copyright,  1907 
by  PAUL  ELDER  AND  COMPANY 


THIRD  EDITION 


THE  TOMOYE  PRESS 


PREFACE 

It  should  be  the  aim  of  every  earnest  book  to  act  in 
some  degree,  however  slight,  as  a  medium  for  imper- 
sonal truth;  and  herein  lies  its  use,  should  it  attain  to 
the  dignity  of  usefulness,  that  it  shall  arouse  some 
dormant  faculty f  shall  animate  our  latent  perception 
of  the  Immanent  Soul.  So  may  it  strike  some  deeper 
note,  some  higher  octave  than  is  perchance  commonly 
sounded;  so  may  it  awake  the  echoes  and  set  us  vibrat- 
ing, so  attune  our  Eolian  harp  that  there  too  shall  the 
winds  of  heaven  call  forth  some  faint  divine  melodies. 
Let  it  but  radiate  health  and  serenity,  let  it  but  stimu- 
late our  faith  and  prove  a  tonic  to  our  indifference,  and 
it  will  not  have  been  written  in  vain. 

Love,  wisdom,  truth,  —  how  may  we  live  and  not 
dwell  on  these,  how  write  to  any  purpose  and  not  re- 
volve about  them  ?  When  we  would  speak  of  religion, 
of  freedom,  of  life  and  art  and  nature,  we  shall  yet 
miss  the  essential  if  we  keep  not  these  in  view;  and 
where  they  converge — these  three — there  is  liberty t 
there  is  peace,  and  there  dwells  the  Soul  serene. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  ELEMENTS  OF  FREEDOM    -  1 

II.  THE  IDEAL  OF  CULTURE  -         11 

III.  THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION    -  -22 

IV.  THE  NATURE  OF  PRAYER  41 
V.  PRACTICAL  IDEALISM  -        -     50 

VI.  THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THOUGHT   -         61 

VII.  CHARACTER  AND  ITS  EXPRESSION       -     69 

VIII.  THE  BEAUTY  OF  POISE  -         80 

IX.  ETHICAL  RELATIONS  -     89 

X.  WEALTH      -  -         98 

XI.  TRUE  AIMS      -  -  108 

XII.  HIGHER  LAWS      -        -  -        -       117 

XIII.  THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE     -  -       -  129 


[r] 


I.   ELEMENTS  OF  FREEDOM 

THERE  is  ever  in  the  human  mind  a  longing 
and  desire  to  transcend  the  limits  of  the 
known, — to  break  bounds  and  away.  It  is 
this  desire  that  has  led  to  great  discov- 
eries; it  drew  certain  frail  barks  across  the  then 
unknown  expanse  of  sea  and  brought  a  Columbus 
to  the  shores  of  a  new  world;  it  pushes  men  into  the 
heart  of  Africa  and  carries  them  over  barren  grounds 
and  ice-floes  toward  the  Pole,  or  leads  them  to  trav- 
erse the  arid  and  desolate  plateaus  of  Central  Asia. 
But  it  is  in  the  realm  of  ideas  that  it  leads  us 
furthest  and  reveals  the  grandest  continents;  carries 
us  to  the  more  sublime  elevations,  and  lays  before 
us  the  more  majestic  panoramas, — for  it  is  in  the 
sphere  of  ideas  alone  that  we  may  be  said  to  pass 
all  bounds  and  be  free  of  limitations.  It  shall  yet 
take  us  to  the  Mecca  of  our  faith  to  behold  the 
Kaaba,  to  the  Lhassa  of  our  ideal  to  stand  before 
the  Buddha-La.  It  goes  not  by  the  chart  but  would  go 
where  there  are  no  charts;  it  goes  not  by  the  beaten 
road  but  follows  rivers  and  mountain  chains  and 
the  shores  of  continents,  like  migrating  storks  and 
swans, — for  to  follow  a  traveled  road  is  to  see  what 
is  already  seen  of  all  men;  but  to  make  your  own 
road  under  the  guidance  of  the  Inner  Light  is  to  see 
and  report  what  no  other  has  seen.  But  though  we 
traverse  the  Asian  deserts,  crawling  at  last  feebly  on 
hands  and  knees  through  burning  sands — in  delirium 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

seeking  water — where  shall  we  find  so  awful  a  deso- 
lation as  exists  within  a  human  heart  that  has  lost 
its  hope  and  become  devoid  of  sympathy?  And 
though  we  cross  the  ice-floes,  though  we  endure  the 
arclic  rigor,  plodding  onward  through  the  polar 
night,  creeping  painfully  over  the  interminable  hum- 
mocks of  the  ice-cap,  ever  northward  into  the  un- 
known dominion  of  cold,  wresting  mile  by  mile  from 
the  icy  grip  of  winter,  subsisting  on  blubber,  oil, — 
the  leather  of  our  boots — until  at  last  the  Pole;  lo, 
one  shall  be  there  to  greet  us,  even  the  image  of  our 
mistaken  selves  whom  we  thought  to  leave  in  New 
York  or  London. 

But,  ah!  what  a  sunny  land  lies  in  this  same  mind 
to  be  revealed  when  we  turn  our  steps  within !  There, 
too,  must  we  cross  burning  deserts  and  laboriously 
ascend  the  rugged  cliffs,  scale  precipices  and  take 
our  way  over  seracs  and  among  crevasses;  when  we 
shall  pass  over  even  into  a  vale  of  Cashmere,  smiling, 
verdant  always, — where  sparkle  limpid  streams, 
where  bloom  the  rose  and  jasmine,  where  sings  the 
bulbul.  What  if  we  find  the  Pole;  what  if  we  map 
the  polar  regions, — nay,  build  a  road  thither,  who 
wishes  to  go?  For  we  have  here  an  ar6lic  rigor, 
here  perhaps  in  our  own  hearts,  and  we  are  awaiting 
a  genial  thaw.  But  to  explore  the  unknown  regions 
of  the  mind,  to  seek  that  shining  land  where  dwells 
the  Soul,  serene, — here  is  a  work  worthy  the  true  ex- 
plorer's mettle.  Let  him  explore  this  world  of 
thought;  let  him  blaze  a  path  and  wear  a  trail  up 
over  the  mountains;  let  him  recount  his  escape  from 
the  wilderness,  and  leave  a  record  of  his  journey 
from  bondage  to  freedom. 


ELEMENTS  OF  FREEDOM 

It  is  the  royal  privilege  of  every  man  to  so  live 
that  his  life  and  example  shall  be  an  inspiration;  to 
so  walk  erect  and  free  that  men  shall  be  constrained 
to  inquire  as  to  the  means  of  his  freedom.  When 
we  have  tried  the  various  motives  of  life  in  the 
crucible  of  experience,  there  is  left  the  precious 
residuum  of  unselfishness;  and  it  is  this  shining 
spherule  which  shall  be  the  talisman  of  our  freedom. 
When  we  act  with  a  selfish  motive  we  descend  to  a 
certain  lower  plane  of  existence  and  are  instantly 
beset  by  all  the  conditions  of  that  plane;  we  have 
opened  the  mind  to  the  free  ingress  of  all  that  is 
incident  to  selfishness,  and  to  the  thought  of  who- 
ever is  so  inclined;  we  have  unsuspectingly  become 
allied  to  the  rabble,  and  whether  we  will  or  no,  must 
march  with  the  crowd.  We  have  fallen  through  the 
floor  of  our  heaven  and  the  heavenly  sojourn  is  now 
but  a  memory.  Egotism  grows  on  a  man,  must  be 
carried  about  like  the  Old  Man  of  the  Mountain, 
and  weighs  heavy  upon  the  shoulders.  Difficult 
it  is  to  cross  certain  streams,  but  if  we  must 
support  likewise  the  burden  of  our  egotism  it  be- 
comes well  nigh  impossible.  But  in  our  unselfish 
deeds  we  act  divinely,  and  every  man's  altruism 
comes  forth  to  welcome  us.  It  is  a  profound  truth 
that  in  our  thoughts  we  join  hands  with  all  who  are 
of  the  same  trend  of  mind  and  become  one  of  a 
brotherhood  of  like  thinkers.  When  we  have  re- 
solved to  be  free  we  are  welcomed  by  the  brother- 
hood of  the  free  and  made  aware  of  their  sympathy. 
New  friends  bring  us  nuggets  of  truth;  it  would 
appear  that  they  had  awaited  our  coming,  gift  in 
hand,  and  we  are  hardly  surprised  that  at  the  right 

[3] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

moment  certain  men  appeared  who  set  us  thinking, 
or  indicated  for  us  the  right  trail.  But  we  shall  yet 
discover  laws  to  account  for  all  that  we  now  dismiss 
as  coincidence. 

There  is  a  slavery  to  the  dollar  and  a  slavery  to 
the  clock,  and  so  ridden  is  the  mind  with  the  mania 
of  possession  that  houses,  bric-a-brac,  clothes,  jewels 
fill  the  horizon,  and  things  usurp  the  place  of  sub- 
stance. But  things  are  merely  the  foci  of  our  desires 
and  aversions,  and  have  but  that  value  with  which 
we  endow  them.  An  astute  man  knows  his  superior- 
ity to  all  externals, — uses  them  or  tosses  them  aside, 
and  they  serve  his  convenience;  but  little  minds  begin 
at  once  to  revolve  about  the  thing  itself,  and  Tweedle- 
dum and  Tweedledee  must  quarrel  over  some  new 
rattle.  It  is  well  that  we  have  such  a  business,  so 
many  dollars,  such  a  house;  but  what  if  the  business 
has  us;  what  if  the  dollars  have  us?  When  Phaeton 
takes  the  reins,  the  sun  goes  out  of  his  course.  This 
cry  of  "me  and  mine"  is  but  a  declaration  of  servi- 
tude. What  can  he  be  said  to  possess  who  does  not 
possess  himself?  The  difference  between  comfort 
and  luxury,  home  and  house,  carriage  and  equipage, 
may  be  just  the  price  of  freedom.  There  is  no  ele- 
gance comparable  with  the  refinement  of  simplicity. 
The  soul  suffices  to  whomsoever  perceives  it;  and 
this  perception  clothes  one  with  the  purple,  sur- 
rounds him  with  elegance,  and  admits  him  to  the 
true  inmost  circle  of  society,  the  patriarchs  of  true 
perception,  before  whom  Colonna  and  Orsini  are 
upstarts.  In  the  difference  between  love  and  fear, 
trust  and  worry,  work  and  toil,  we  again  pay  the 
price  of  freedom.  It  is  the  dead  weight  of  worry 

[4] 


ELEMENTS  OF  FREEDOM 

plus  the  straw  which  breaks  a  man's  back.  Worry 
never  dug  a  well  nor  shingled  a  house,  never  built 
a  bridge  nor  ran  a  bank.  Men  pass  as  substantial 
and  important  if  they  are  sufficiently  burdened  with 
cares;  but  one  is  truly  wise  and  reliable  in  propor- 
tion to  the  work  and  good  accomplished  without 
care.  Worry  is  a  leak,  a  dissipation;  it  is  a  mort- 
gage on  power  that  takes  all  our  spare  energy  to  pay 
the  interest,  and  keeps  us  with  nose  to  the  grindstone. 
The  mind  can  entertain  but  one  wise  and  happy 
concept  of  the  body  and  that  is  the  consciousness  of 
that  perfection  which  is  health.  Abnormal  con- 
sideration for  the  body  is  the  pillory  in  which  many 
minds  must  fret  and  fume.  It  is  not  enough  that 
we  have  health  but  we  would  have  terrapin  and 
truffles.  Man  himself  ele<5ls  what  office  the  senses 
shall  fill.  He  bids  the  eye  behold  virtue  and  it  does 
so;  vice,  and  it  sees  vice;  so  does  the  ear  feed  his 
desire  and  bring  him  companions  to  his  thought. 
Not  to  know  of  the  stomach,  to  be  unaware  of  the 
existence  of  organs,  to  be  conscious  only  of  bodily 
perfection, — this  is  health,  and  this  is  also  a  measure 
of  freedom.  It  suffices  that  we  hear  well,  see  well, 
eat  and  sleep  well;  we  should  have  no  concern  with 
eyes,  ears  and  organs.  He  is  not  the  slave  whose 
body  is  in  bondage,  but  he  who  is  in  bondage  to  his 
body.  Many  a  life  sentence  is  served  out  under  the 
blue  sky;  many  a  galley  slave  walks  the  streets. 
Health  is  essential  to  freedom,  but  a  free  mind  is 
first  necessary  to  health.  A  sound  body  implies  a 
mind  free  from  fear  and  anger,  from  all  negation 
and  weakness.  "Plain  living  and  high  thinking" — 
be  this  our  motto. 

[5] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

It  is  a  good  sign  when  conversation  holds  aloof 
from  bodily  ills  and  complaints.  There  are  persons 
whose  minds  are  infected  and  who  carry  with  them 
a  certain  mental  and  moral  contagion;  whose  thoughts 
pollute  the  mental  atmosphere,  and  whose  conversa- 
tion breeds  disease.  Deliver  us  from  those  pathologic 
minds  ever  on  the  alert  for  symptoms,  and  anxious 
to  proclaim  their  ailments.  Is  there  to  be  no  quar- 
antine for  these  disease  mongers  ?  It  is  a  false  sym- 
pathy that  would  condole  with  our  aches  and  pains; 
a  wise  regard  ignores  externals  and  addresses  itself 
to  the  real  man  dwelling  composed  and  tranquil  be- 
yond all  appearances.  It  is  a  habit  of  certain  per- 
sons to  observe  that  one  looks  pale  or  lean  and  forth- 
with to  settle  upon  him  after  the  manner  of  house 
sparrows  upon  a  sick  bird,  and  to  pick  him  to 
pieces  so  to  speak.  His  paleness  or  his  leanness  be- 
comes a  reproach  to  him,  and  he  is  victimized  by 
this  false  sympathy  at  every  turn. 

We  owe  it  to  the  genius  of  health  that  we  should 
look  for  its  manifestation  in  every  countenance; 
and  if  we  fail  to  see  therein  a  good  color  or  an  ex- 
uberant vitality,  we  may  nevertheless  find  a  clear 
eye  or  a  calm  expression,  and  it  were  wise  and  kind 
to  comment  on  that  rather  than  on  any  apparent 
lack.  We  owe  it  to  truth  that  we  no  longer  discredit 
man's  high  estate  by  addressing  ourselves  always  to 
the  body,  and  that  we  cultivate  a  spiritual  consider- 
ateness  rather  than  this  overweening  material  solici- 
tude. In  your  well  wishes  for  men,  wish  them  peace 
and  let  your  concern  be  for  their  sanity  and  serenity 
rather  than  for  their  rheumatism. 

What  is  it  to  be  free  but  freedom  from  our  false 

[6] 


ELEMENTS  OF  FREEDOM 

impressions?  To  be  fearless  is  to  be  godlike.  It 
requires  an  ordinary  and  savage  courage  to  face  a 
cannon,  but  it  takes  a  refined  and  gracious  courage 
to  face  our  impressions  and  dispel  them.  Our  de- 
lusions, these  are  our  enemies;  our  idle  thoughts, 
these  our  insidious  foes.  To  live  true  to  the  Soul 
requires  the  finer  courage.  We  go  into  battle  with 
colors  flying  and  drums  beating;  we  meet  our  de- 
lusions in  silence,  hearing  no  plaudits,  spurred  by 
no  music.  To  come  forth  superior  to  all  delusions, 
that  the  fear  of  death,  of  disease  and  poverty  shall 
be  swallowed  in  the  victory  of  love, — this  is  indeed 
to  be  a  vidlor  and  wear  the  laurel.  To  fear  work  or 
idleness,  ridicule  or  praise,  opinion  or  indifference, 
society  or  solitude  is  to  be  a  slave  to  one  or  all  of 
these. 

If  you  have  reached  the  stage  of  nonconformity, 
not  to  one  institution  in  particular,  but  to  all  things 
external  to  you — to  all  but  the  divine  pattern  within 
you — so  may  you  hope  to  be  transformed.  If  you 
have  come  to  esteem  free  thought  as  the  birthright 
and  heritage  of  humanity,  so  may  you  confidently 
hope  to  be  free;  for  the  thought  precedes  the  state, — 
freedom  in  thought  before  freedom  in  action  and 
life.  The  Spirit  bids  us  cast  off  the  shackles  of  tra- 
dition and  forego  our  musty  creeds.  We  must  have 
the  living  Word;  the  truth  shall  make  us  free.  Nur- 
ture your  free  thought,  cherish  it;  it  shall  be  a  jewel 
in  your  crown.  Free  thought  or  slavish  thought, 
which  will  you?  Once  resolved  to  think  for  our- 
selves and  we  shall  become  men;  let  others  think 
for  us  and  we  remain  puppets. 

We  are  not  to  confound  freedom  with  license  nor 

[7] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

to  suppose  that  the  one  through  any  transition  may 
lead  to  the  other,  for  freedom  is  the  guerdon  of  a 
perfect  apprehension  of  divine  law  and  a  con- 
formity to  the  Will  of  God;  it  is  in  facl;  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  Soul's  identity  with  the  Infinite  and  the 
recognition  of  the  Divine  Presence.  We  may  ask 
with  the  Stoics, — who  shall  compel  us  more  than 
Zeus?  If  God  be  for  me,  who  can  be  against  me? 
It  is  from  ignorance,  from  mistaken  impressions, 
from  the  tyranny  of  supposed  laws  that  we  would 
be  free.  License,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  lack  of 
realization  and  a  failure  to  apprehend  the  divine 
laws  and  relationship;  and  the  greater  the  license 
the  more  complete  the  slavery. 

Freedom  is  not  a  name  in  the  sky;  it  is  a  condition 
to  be  actualized  within.  We  shall  not  be  free  until 
we  know  ourselves.  The  true  life  is  distinct  from 
the  senses,  and  when  we  awake  from  our  dream  we 
shall  stand  forth  in  the  majesty  of  the  Soul.  Open 
the  oak  gall  and  within  lies  the  larva  of  the  gall-fly: 
it  dwells  within  a  tiny  sphere,  nor  dreams  of  earth, 
nor  sky,  nor  sunshine.  One  day  visions  of  freedom — 
of  a  larger  life — possess  the  maturing  insect  and 
forthwith  he  breaks  his  prison  wall  and  beholds  the 
glory  of  the  day.  The  grossly  feeding  caterpillar 
no  sooner  views  his  world  than  he  proceeds  to  de- 
vour it;  but  anon  he  becomes  a  free  child  of  the  air 
and  sips  only  a  drop  of  ne6lar. 

There  is  in  man  a  higher  Self,  which  partakes  of 
Divinity  and  transcends  the  illusions  of  sense.  To 
seek  this  Self  and  to  become  one  with  it  is  the  dictate 
of  wisdom  and  the  path  of  freedom.  Self-union 
through  spiritual  unfoldment, — this  is  the  esoteric 

[8] 


ELEMENTS  OF  FREEDOM 

teaching  of  all  great  religions — a  teaching  that  in 
all  ages  has  influenced  the  few  and  eluded  the  many. 
We  may  trace  it  from  the  Upanishad  to  the  Vedanta; 
read  it  in  the  Bhagavad-gita  and  in  the  Psalms  of 
David.  "Seeking  for  freedom,  I  go  for  refuge  to 
that  God  who  is  the  light  of  his  own  thoughts": 
thus  sang  the  Aryan  poet,  and  the  sacred  literature 
of  the  world  echoes  his  thought. 

It  is  commonly  remarked  that  there  is  that  quality 
in  the  tone  of  an  instrument  that  takes  one  "out  of 
one's  self."  There  is,  indeed,  that  which  tends  to 
bring  one  to  one's  self,  which  leads  us  back  to  the 
Self;  and  it  is  the  mission,  we  may  say,  rather  than 
the  function  of  music,  that  it  should  take  us  out  of 
the  seeming,  should  lift  us  from  the  muddy  every- 
day consciousness  up  into  the  clear  and  limpid  at- 
mosphere of  the  real.  Music  is  a  kind  of  wordless 
thought,  a  vibration  too  subtle  for  sense  apprecia- 
tion, but  capable  of  instituting  another  and  coarser 
vibration;  it  is,  as  it  were,  the  thought  essence  itself 
made  manifest  through  sound.  So  may  the  Soul 
resolve  its  message  into  a  current  form  of  expression, 
and  hence  the  thrill  we  feel.  Music  offers  a  possible 
medium  for  the  expression  of  ideas  too  subtle  for 
spoken  language.  When  we  listen — when  a  great 
ear  listens  to  great  music — it  uses  no  code,  it  trans- 
lates nothing,  it  feels,  it  receives  the  spiritual  impress 
of  an  idea, — the  man  comes  to  himself. 

But  these  are  but  transitory  and  evanescent 
gleams  that  come  through  prelude  and  nocturne 
and  rhapsody,  and  the  vibrations  of  vast  harmonies, — 
little  glimmers  and  flashes  in  the  prevailing  murki- 
ness.  It  is  through  concentration  and  meditation 

[93 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

upon  the  sublime  principles  of  being  which  give  rise 
to  wisdom  and  truth;  it  is  through  contemplation  of 
the  ineffable  relationship  of  the  human  and  the 
divine  that  the  individual  is  merged  and  liberated 
in  the  universal;  it  is  in  that  silence  profound  that 
the  eternal  identity  is  perceived  whereby  the  bolts 
are  drawn,  the  portals  opened  and  we  go  forth  un- 
shackled, free.  The  Alone  returns  to  the  Vast  Alone; 
the  limitless  and  unconditioned  Soul  mingles  with 
the  Spirit, — for  it  is  only  in  thought  that  we  have 
strayed  from  the  precincts  of  the  real;  it  is  only  in 
consciousness  that  we  have  departed  from  the  pres- 
ence of  God. 


[10] 


II.   THE  IDEAL  OF  CULTURE 

CULTURE  is  inseparably  linked  with  real- 
ity; indeed,  it  may  be  considered  as  evi- 
dence of  a  perception  of  what  is  real,  a 
recognition  of  true  values,  a  deference  to 
what  is  substantial  in  life,  in  character,  in  art  and 
literature.  As  it  is  concerned  with  what  is  real,  so 
it  implies  the  cultivation  of  that  alone  which  is 
permanent,  of  that  which  is  spiritual.  It  is  no  turn- 
ing of  the  sod,  no  mere  raking  of  the  intellectual 
surface,  no  scattering  of  a  handful  of  flower  seeds 
among  the  pigweed  and  the  burdock;  but  it  is  a 
timber-felling,  uprooting,  stump-pulling  movement. 
It  is  a  crushing  of  the  strata,  an  upheaval  and  an 
overturning,  a  flowing  of  the  sea  over  what  was  dry 
land,  a  birth  of  mountain  chains  along  the  old  sea 
margin  and  the  subsequent  appearance  of  a  new 
beauty  and  an  ever-increasing  refinement.  The 
birth  of  culture  is  an  Appalachian  revolution,  but 
its  growth  is  as  gentle  as  the  passing  of  a  day  in 
June.  The  history  of  evolution  is  not  half  written, 
for  the  evolution  of  form  is  but  the  introduction.  It 
is  the  unfolding  of  the  spiritual,  the  real,  the  cul- 
tured man  from  the  germs  which  lie  within  the 
animal  or  natural  man  that  shall  form  the  vital 
chapters  of  the  history. 

The  truest  evidence  of  culture  is  this — that  how- 
ever we  belie  ourselves  it  addresses  still  the  Soul, 
and  regards  us  in  the  light  of  our  possibilities:  and 

[11] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

this  is  the  innuendo  by  which  it  makes  itself  known, 
that  it  can  do  this  while  deferring  always  to  those 
social  precedents  which  refinement  has  established. 
To  see  men  as  they  appear  to  be  shows  a  lack  of 
understanding;  but  to  hold  them  up  to  their  divine 
prerogatives  is  the  essence  of  true  nobleness. 

But  culture  will  have  no  pretense,  no  disguises. 
Divested  of  all  externals,  our  money,  our  Latin  and 
Greek,  our  accomplishments,  taken  from  our  cus- 
tomary surroundings,  far  from  the  pale  of  our  circles 
and  institutions,  no  longer  relying  upon  the  prestige 
of  names  and  ancestry — what  then  is  there  to  show  ? 
Culture  takes  our  measure  and  takes  it  in  kindness, 
but  will  not  be  deceived  into  mistaking  a  "forked 
radish"  for  a  man.  Away  with  semblance.  Culture 
will  have  none  of  it.  We  need  display  no  diploma, 
no  degree,  if  we  can  show  no  fruit  thereof.  Useless 
that  in  college  we  studied  metaphysics  if  now  we 
know  not  our  own  minds,  that  we  were  proficient  in 
psychology  if  we  know  not  whether  we  are  soul  or 
body;  to  no  purpose  that  we  read  philosophy  if  now 
we  are  discontent,  or  Theism  if  we  have  not  trust  in 
God;  mathematics,  and  have  demonstrated  no  plan 
of  life;  astronomy,  and  can  see  nothing  beyond  the 
nose.  In  vain  our  economics  if  we  profess  only 
politics;  our  history  if  we  have  learned  only  chro- 
nology; our  rhetoric  if  we  have  nothing  to  say  and 
can  utter  no  truth.  Farming  would  teach  us  to 
plant  live  seed  if  we  would  harvest  a  crop. 

There  is  no  school  for  culture  save  life  only.  It  is 
evolved,  not  acquired ;  it  is  not  an  accretion  but  an  ex- 
pansion ;  it  is  a  token  of  growth,  but  of  a  growth  which 
is  endogenous.  Nor  is  it  derived  from  association 

[12] 


THE  IDEAL  OF  CULTURE 

with  noble  persons,  for  we  but  reflect  their  own. 
To  cultivate  the  mind  without  the  heart  is  to  turn  an 
arid  soil  that  shall  produce  only  sage-brush.  A  truly 
cultivated  mind  has  learned  first  the  virtue  of  the 
heart,  for  love  is  the  basis  of  a  true  culture.  Love 
is  the  most  real  thing  in  the  universe,  for  God  is 
Love;  and  therefore  it  is  the  substance  and  ideal  of 
the  cultured  mind,  and  whatever  we  shall  say  of 
one  may  be  placed  to  the  credit  of  the  other. 

Love  is  cosmic,  not  personal;  it  is  metaphysical, 
not  emotional.  It  is  the  substance  as  well  as  the 
aroma  of  life.  It  is  for  the  home  and  the  club,  the 
street  and  the  counting-house.  It  is  the  only  prac- 
tical basis  for  all  phases  of  social  life.  It  is  not  a 
sentiment  of  youth,  but  is  for  all  men  and  women, 
all  nations,  all  created  things.  Love  is  the  best  busi- 
ness policy  and  the  best  national  policy — this  which 
lacks  all  policy  and  is  content  to  be  itself.  It  is  the 
only  diplomacy  that  does  not  fail.  It  can  no  more 
be  detached  from  life  than  can  gravitation  be  dis- 
associated from  matter;  there  is  no  occasion  which 
it  does  not  fit;  there  is  no  time  and  no  place  from 
which  it  may  properly  be  excluded. 

That  which  differentiates  me  from  my  neighbor  is 
not  real  but  seeming,  and  shall  endure  only  so  long 
as  my  imperfect  sight  endures;  it  shall  disappear  to 
my  awakened  vision,  and  I  shall  love  him  literally 
as  myself,  for  he  is  myself;  the  self -same  spirit  is  in 
him  that  is  in  me,  that  is  in  all  men;  and  what  is  not 
spirit  is  neither  he  nor  I.  Do  I  aid  him,  I  further 
my  own  advancement;  whatsoever  I  give  to  another 
I  add  to  my  own  character.  It  is  in  the  nature  of 
love  that  we  shall  have  only  in  proportion  as  we  give. 

[is] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

He  only  who  gave  the  universe  may  fully  possess  it. 
We  must  impart  our  knowledge  before  we  can  profit 
by  it;  we  must  give  our  money  before  we  can  enjoy 
it.  The  secret  eats  into  the  heart;  money  burns  in 
the  pocket.  Out  with  it!  Uncover!  Discover! 
Make  manifest  what  is  concealed.  It  is  the  genius 
of  the  West  to  proclaim,  as  it  is  of  the  Orient  to  con- 
ceal. The  East  has  brooded  much,  has  thought 
deeply,  is  silent  and  decadent.  The  West  has  thought 
lightly,  has  all  to  learn,  but  it  proclaims  joyfully  and 
would  impart,  publish  and  make  known;  and  while 
vulgarity  disseminates  that  which  is  unreal,  and  wal- 
lows in  the  license  of  the  press,  culture  proclaims  its 
modicum  of  truth.  Bread  cast  upon  the  waters  re- 
turns the  sweeter;  and  to  return  love  for  hate  is  to 
pay  the  highest  deference  to  the  Soul.  To  be  loved 
we  must  love;  to  be  blessed  we  must  bless. 

When  shall  we  learn  that  God  is  synonymous  with 
Good,  and  with  Love;  and  whatsoever  is  not  done 
in  the  name  of  God — that  is  to  say,  in  the  name  of 
the  Supreme  Good — whatsoever  is  not  consistent 
with  Love,  shall  fail  ?  If  there  is  one  God,  then  are 
we  children  of  one  Father;  if  there  is  one  Mind,  one 
Soul,  one  Heart,  then  do  we  share  its  intelligence 
and  its  love.  There  is  a  divine  order  in  apparent 
chaos;  there  is  a  perfect  unity  in  seeming  diversity. 
We  shall  choose  between  eternal  truth  and  national 
error,  between  divine  order  and  human  disorder. 
That  which  is  true  for  the  individual  is  none  the 
less  so  for  the  nation  which  is  but  a  larger,  more 
comprehensive  individual,  and  love  is  the  corner- 
stone of  a  national  culture.  It  is  political  short- 
sightedness that  sees  one  code  of  ethics  for  the 

[14] 


THE  IDEAL  OF  CULTURE 

individual  and  another  for  the  nation;  it  is  worldly 
fatuity  that  admits  a  golden  rule  in  daily  life  but 
ignores  it  in  national  conduct.  There  is  a  wisdom 
which  makes  foolish  our  statesmanship;  there  is  a 
noble  procedure  of  love  which  scorns  our  diplomacy. 
Love  is  the  genius  of  true  diplomacy  and  good  gov- 
ernment. In  the  encouragement  of  labor,  capital 
reaps  a  large  benefit;  in  a  love  of  humanity  royalty 
needs  tremble  no  longer;  in  a  just  consideration  for 
each  other  nations  cease  to  fear,  cease  the  paltry, 
ignoble  game  where  the  cards  are  marked,  the  dice 
loaded,  and  the  players  sit  uneasy  in  their  chairs — 
suspicious  and  distrustful. 

Love  would  have  us  disband  our  armies  and  dis- 
mantle our  guns.  The  burden  of  fear  weighs  heavy 
upon  the  world,  and  only  love  shall  lift  it.  In  the 
days  of  unrefined  savagery  man  dreamed  that  he  was 
separate  from  the  Source  of  Life,  separate  from  his 
brother;  and  all  the  years  he  has  lived  in  that  dream, 
haunted  by  this  mania  of  separateness — striving  to 
advance  his  separate  interests.  And  forsaking  the 
rule  of  love  he  is  overcome  by  fear  and  seeks  pro- 
tection from  all  he  has  alienated  from  himself;  for 
inexorable  is  the  law  of  love — the  law  of  laws,  which 
is  never  broken  but  which  breaks  the  transgressor, 
which  grinds  him  to  powder.  Europe  turns  uneasy 
in  her  dream;  demands  a  tax  on  the  salt  and  the 
cabbage  of  the  poor;  exa<5ls  of  the  peasant  the  best 
years  of  his  manhood;  of  the  women,  toil  and  weari- 
ness; of  the  well-born,  that  they  sacrifice  better  aims 
for  a  sword — and  idleness.  So  much  does  a  lack  of 
national  culture  impose;  such  is  the  price  of  military 
pretense.  But  who  shall  protect  us  from  ourselves 

[15] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

if  love  has  gone  out  of  the  heart?  The  combined 
armaments  of  the  world  cannot  offer  safety  to  one 
shivering,  fearful  human  creature,  nor  subdue  the 
rebellion  in  one  little  mind.  There  is  but  one  armor 
that  will  serve — the  beautiful  armor  of  love,  mighty 
and  invulnerable. 

The  love  of  the  beautiful  is  ever  a  redeeming  trait 
in  the  character  of  a  people,  and  wherever  it  obtains 
in  an  eminent  degree  it  sheds  a  luster  upon  that 
time  and  place  and  confers  a  distinction  upon  that 
race.  Precisely  for  this  reason  does  the  genius 
of  Japan  exa6l  always  a  certain  deference  from  the 
esthetic  world;  for  this  same  reverence  for  beauty 
is  there  somewhat  national  and  pervades  the  mass 
of  the  people.  It  is  revealed  in  the  innate  courtesy 
of  common  men;  in  the  universal  love  of  nature — 
where  the  blossoming  of  the  cherry,  the  lotus  and 
the  chrysanthemum  are  events  of  almost  national 
importance;  where  every  mountain  vista  and  every 
fair  scene  is  cherished,  is  an  heirloom  of  every  son 
of  Japan.  We  see  its  genial  influence  where  bare- 
legged, straw-shod  coolies  can  evince  an  apprecia- 
tion for  the  exquisite  charm  of  satsuma,  of  cloisonne 
and  gold  lacquer;  where  such  men  can  look  admir- 
ingly at  a  rare  bronze  of  Mitsuhilo,  or  at  a  kake- 
mono, or  stand  in  rapt  delight  as  the  mellow  tones  of 
the  great  bell  strike  upon  the  ear — a  volume  of 
heavenly  sound  floating  out  upon  the  air  from  the 
temple  among  the  cryptomerias.  But  such  is  only 
a  little  focusing  of  what  is  cosmic,  a  little  evidence 
of  what  is  not  Japanese  but  universal,  for  it  lies  within 
the  soul;  of  what  is  most  truly  and  transcendently 
human  and  hence  divine. 

[16] 


THE  IDEAL  OF  CULTURE 

As  love  is  the  ideal  of  culture,  so  it  is  the  ground 
of  true  morality.  To  be  virtuous  for  love  of  virtue; 
to  be  upright  for  love  of  honor,  benevolent  for  love 
of  humanity,  and  equitable  for  love  of  justice — in 
short,  to  be  good  for  love  of  God,  such  is  morality; 
and  the  moral  sense  is  but  the  right  development  of 
the  idea  of  love, — for  anything  contrary  to  virtue  is 
inimical  to  love;  anything  less  than  honor,  equity 
and  purity,  is  derogatory  to  love.  Love  is  the  ra- 
diant point  for  all  virtues,  and  to  live  in  accord- 
ance with  it  is  to  obey  all  moral  laws.  But  to  be 
benevolent  for  fear  of  criticism,  to  be  virtuous  for 
fear  of  consequences,  honest  for  fear  of  the  magis- 
trate, or  respectable  for  fear  of  society,  is  not  moral- 
ity but  cowardice.  The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  not 
revealed  through  fear  of  hell,  for  fear  is  a  hell  in 
itself.  Who  fears  any  hell  is  on  the  road  thither. 
There  is  more  hope  for  a  sturdy  knave  than  for  him 
who  walks  straight  for  fear  of  punishment. 

What  passes  for  immorality  is  largely  fear.  It 
is  not  love  of  drink  that  makes  the  most  drunkards, 
for  Bacchus  soon  disgusts  his  votaries;  but  it  is  fear 
of  life,  fear  of  sorrow,  fear  of  what  is  uncongenial 
and  hard  to  bear,  of  weakness,  or  of  ennui.  Fear  of 
poverty  breeds  rogues  and  misers.  He  who  loves 
life  as  he  finds  it,  who  loves  to  battle  with  it  in  his 
strength;  he  who  is  engrossed  in  his  love  for  his 
fellow  men — in  his  love  for  the  idea,  would  never 
obscure  it  with  alcohol,  nor  seek  to  hide  his  head 
beneath  the  sands  of  an  opium  dream.  Immorality 
is  not  alone  a  tendency  of  the  vicious  and  luxurious, 
it  is  found  wherever  love  is  not.  There  is  the  im- 
morality of  riches,  of  ostentation  and  display,  for 

[17] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

love  of  truth  enjoins  simplicity.  There  is  the  im- 
morality of  pretense,  for  love  of  what  is  real  forbids 
it.  The  inner  wealth  reveals  itself;  a  mere  outward 
sign  should  be  concealed.  It  were  better  to  part 
with  our  riches  if  we  are  unhappy,  for  they  but 
proclaim  an  inner  poverty;  better  to  save  our  money 
if  we  lack  taste,  for  to  spend  it  is  to  advertise  our 
vulgarity.  To  love  truth  because  of  the  truth  is  the 
essence  of  refinement;  and  to  be  true  to  one's  self 
is  to  be  moral. 

How  persistently  does  the  obdurate  mind  oppose 
barriers  to  the  free  course  of  generous  impulse; 
with  what  perseverance  does  it  stand  in  its  own 
light  and  recoil  from  the  personalities  which  en- 
shroud the  human  soul — bring  objection  upon 
objection,  repulsion,  shrinking,  coldness!  All  this 
in  its  blindness,  because  it  perceives  not  the  Ineffable 
One  looking  through  every  pair  of  eyes,  beating  in 
every  heart.  Foolish  are  we  who  think  thus  to 
protect  ourselves;  we  but  ere 61  barriers  of  mist  to 
oppose  the  infinite  array  of  love,  and  presently  the 
beautiful  star  of  human  sympathy  shall  pierce  the 
murky  clouds  with  its  serene  ray  and  we  shall  be 
confused  and  ashamed  in  the  presence  of  that  which 
we  but  now  denied.  Then  shall  we  arise  and  wit- 
ness the  glory  of  that  star  of  love,  nevermore  to  lose 
sight  of  it,  for  it  illumines  the  way  and  is  the  reason 
and  hope  and  happiness  of  life,  and  whenever  its 
divine  light  falls  full  upon  a  human  face  it  is 
transfigured. 

If  you  would  read  charactei,  be  kind,  for  love  is 
the  stone  which  reveals  the  gold  in  human  nature. 
Love  is  wise  and  looks  behind  the  mask;  behind  the 

[18] 


THE  IDEAL  OF  CULTURE 

cold  exterior  it  sees  the  yearning  for  expression  and 
recognition;  beyond  the  barrier  of  cynicism  it  de- 
tects the  sensitive,  affectionate  nature,  thinking  thus 
to  shield  itself.  It  looks  through  austerity  and  sees 
gentleness;  looks  past  all  the  array  of  proud  and 
forbidding  aspects  with  which  we  confront  the 
world  and  sees  the  sterling  qualities  which  we  would 
thus  conceal.  So  easy  is  it  to  address  ourselves  to 
the  defects  in  other  men,  to  note  the  faults  where  it 
were  better  to  have  scanned  the  virtues;  so  difficult 
to  deal  with  them  divinely.  But  love  is  indeed  slow 
to  judge;  it  looks  beneath  the  scowl,  beneath  the 
mask  of  bitterness,  of  scorn  and  arrogance,  and  be- 
holds always  the  gentle,  unawakened  soul.  With 
its  beautiful  child-like  gaze  it  pierces  the  shell  of 
irascibility  and  of  churlishness  and  selfishness,  and 
whispers,  "Come  forth,  O  my  Brother!"  It  reads 
between  the  lines;  reads  the  latent  good,  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  poorest,  meanest  man;  it  scans  the 
book  that  every  man  carries  in  his  face  and  form 
and  learns  how  the  youthful  aspirations  were  smoth- 
ered; how  the  longings  of  a  heart  were  crushed;  the 
yearnings  stifled.  Love  always  transcends  the  per- 
sonality and  sees  in  its  objectionable  traits  but  the 
tough  shell  which  encloses  the  sweet  kernel,  as  the 
leathery  rind  of  the  mangosteen  serves  to  protedl 
the  most  delicate  of  fruits, — for  as  fragile  plants 
sometimes  hide  from  the  glare  of  the  sun,  so  do 
oftentimes  rare  and  beautiful  natures  seek  to  screen 
themselves  from  the  world. 

All  the  world  loves  the  great-hearted  man  whose 
love  is  as  deep  as  humanity  and  as  broad  as  creation. 
To  him — the  sublime  soul — come  loving  influences 

[19] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

from  all  points — from  the  distant  stars  pouring  into 
him,  up  from  the  earth  rushing  to  him,  emanating 
from  the  grasses  and  the  sedges,  from  leaves  and 
flowers,  out  from  the  throats  of  birds  floating  to  him — 
flowing  and  surging  into  his  being.  His  love  is  all 
inclusive,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  from  the 
meanest  to  the  noblest;  for  the  drunkard  and  the 
fallen;  for  the  vicious  and  the  insane;  for  the  hopeless 
and  despairing — for  all,  but  one  thought  of  kind- 
ness, beholding  within  every  wretched  body  the 
germs  of  something  higher,  the  seeds  of  something 
nobler.  God  uses  such  a  man  and  through  him  are 
prayers  answered.  He  is  at  the  earnest  call  of  man- 
kind; wherever  he  is  attracted  it  is  to  minister  to 
some  soul  that  seeks  the  light,  some  mind  that  is 
full  to  overflowing  with  vain  longing  and  dissatis- 
faction. He  hears  the  cry  for  help  of  those  who  have 
come  to  stand  alone  and  know  not  yet  which  way 
to  turn.  He  hears  all  these  voices  calling — voices 
of  the  night;  hears  them  on  the  city  streets;  hears 
them  in  the  wind  and  waves;  hears  them  in  the 
silence.  Wherever  men  and  women  work,  wherever 
men  and  women  wait;  wherever  lives  seem  poor  and 
barren;  where  they  are  joyless  and  uneventful; 
where  the  crisis  seems  too  great;  when  the  strain 
would  seem  to  break — there  he  heeds  them  and 
obeys.  He  goes  to  whisper  courage,  goes  to  give 
his  strong  right  hand,  goes  to  take  a  light  into  the 
darkness. 

To  be  cultured  is  to  possess  a  plummet  which 
shall  sound  all  institutions  and  the  minds  of  men, 
for  while  there  is  nothing  so  shortsighted  as  shrewd- 
ness— which  is  a  very  mole — there  is  nothing  more 

[20] 


THE  IDEAL  OF  CULTURE 

farseeing  than  love;  it  is  to  have  a  hazel  wand  that 
will  unfailingly  indicate  the  hidden  reality.  And 
the  exercise  of  culture  is  the  passing  this  wand  over 
science  and  arts,  over  customs  and  fashions,  over 
books  and  conversations;  and  wherever  it  points, 
there  shall  we  dig.  The  wand  passes  over  the  new 
book  of  many  editions — passes  over  the  things  of  a 
day  and  gives  no  sign,  but  on  the  classic  ground  of 
truth  it  fairly  leaps  in  the  hand. 

Culture  is  the  token  of  a  true  self-sufficiency,  for 
only  that  which  is  real  shall  suffice.  How  shall  it 
be  attained  through  that  which  today  is  and  tomor- 
row is  not  ?  Shall  we  draw  a  circle  in  the  sand  and 
stand  within  it  a  few  hours  until  the  tide  rises  ?  We 
awake  from  our  classical  slumbers,  and  lo!  new 
constellations  have  filled  the  heavens,  and  men  prate 
of  new  gods,  and  the  old  altars  are  forsaken.  But 
love  is  the  same  yesterday,  today,  and  forever,  and 
whatever  things  are  not  built  upon  it  are  circles  in 
the  sand,  and  as  continually  fall  away. 


III.   THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION 

SO  UNFAILINGLY  are  the  minds  of  men 
dominated  by  the  tyranny  of  the  institution 
that  even  to  quote  the  inspired  utterance  of 
Hebrew   or   Hindu   has   become   somewhat 
inexpedient  to  whomsoever  essays  to  speak  inde- 
pendently  of   truth;   inexpedient   lest   he   shall   be 
thought  to  commit  himself  to  some  particular  and 
partial  view, — to  be  the  phonograph  into  which  some 
secT;  or  cult  has  spoken.    But  truth  will  be  subject 
to  neither  book  nor  institution;  will  not  be  cornered 
nor  held  in  the  treasury  with  the  brocaded  vestments 
and  sacred  relics.     And  he   who  would  a6l  as  her 
spokesman   must  speak  from    without  the  world's 
institutions  and  from  within  himself. 

Nevertheless,  those  visions  of  truth  which  have 
been  vouchsafed  to  men  in  all  ages,  and  the  record 
of  which,  more  or  less  adulterated,  forms  what  is 
known  as  the  sacred  literature  of  the  world,  give 
aid  and  encouragement  to  all  who  search  for  the 
true  meaning  of  life;  and  he  who  gives  ear  to  the 
communication  of  the  Spirit  will  find  their  echo 
nowhere  oftener  than  in  the  Bible.  But  once  and 
for  all  may  we  lay  aside  prejudice  and  tradition  and 
read  the  Bible  with  open  eyes;  let  us  abjure  it  as  a 
fetish  that  we  may  find  in  it  an  inspiration.  And 
while  we  behold  the  glorious  expression  of  that  truth 
which  underlies  all  religions,  we  shall  find  super- 
imposed upon  this  and  to  a  great  degree  obscuring 

[22] 


THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION 

it,  the  dogma  and  superstition  of  another  period; 
the  tales  and  allegories,  fable  and  fiction  which  arose 
in  after  times  to  give  to  the  inspired  sayings  unity, 
from  a  certain  exterior  point  of  view,  that  they  might 
become  subjedl  to  the  purposes  of  the  institution 
and  amenable  to  the  ends  of  priestcraft.  Nor  are  we 
warranted  in  assigning  an  ethical  unity  to  so  hetero- 
geneous a  collection  of  writings  as  that  which  con- 
stitutes the  Bible.  Such  is  the  deference  to  the  au- 
thority of  names  that  we  exclude  from  the  canon  of 
scripture  certain  books  as  apocryphal;  but  to  the 
sublime  authority  of  truth  we  offer  no  such  unquali- 
fied allegiance,  and  are  content  that  much  that  is 
apocryphal  from  this  standpoint  and  at  variance 
with  the  canons  of  reason  should  remain.  We  may 
assume  that  the  familiar  adage  of  the  devil's  quoting 
scripture  would  never  have  arisen  were  there  no 
grounds  for  supposing  scripture  to  contain  that 
which  might  be  construed  to  serve  his  ends.  But 
this  fallacy  of  the  infallibility  of  scripture  is  in  no 
sense  unique,  but  pertains,  it  may  safely  be  inferred, 
to  all  writings  that  are  esteemed  as  sacred,  govern- 
ing the  Hindu  in  his  relation  to  the  Veda,  and  the 
Mahometan  to  the  Koran;  investing  alike  with 
sacred  dignity  whatever  incongruity  may  occur  on 
some  antique  scroll,  some  venerable  papyrus  or 
parchment. 

But  there  shall  surely  be  held  a  council  of  reason 
whose  office  it  will  be  to  weed  this  sacred  garden  and 
to  separate  the  tares  from  the  wheat,  to  disassociate 
the  visions  of  seers — the  pearls  of  truth — from  the 
mere  record  of  misdoings;  that  divine  edicls  may 
not  again  be  cited  in  justification  of  the  savagery  of 

[23] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

a  primitive  people,  and  that  we  may  no  longer  pro- 
mulgate as  sacred  that  which  forms  a  chapter  in  the 
annals  of  crime.  Thus  shall  they  be  absolved  at 
the  confessional  of  their  own  higher  natures  who 
have  refrained  from  giving  such  husks  to  the  fair 
mind  of  childhood,  that  asking  for  bread  it  should 
no  longer  be  given  a  stone.  Whereupon  that  Bible 
we  have  so  long  held  with  palsied  hands  and  read 
with  bleared  vision  shall  be  invested  with  a  new 
glory,  and  filled  with  a  new  meaning,  or  rather  with 
one  that  is  never  old. 

We  shall  see  that  in  its  final  analysis  the  Bible 
presents  an  epitome  of  the  Soul's  history, — or,  prop- 
erly, of  the  history  of  man's  recognition  of  the  Soul, 
reaching  its  ultimate  expression  in  the  life  of  Jesus 
whose  transcendent  genius  lay  in  his  perfect  appre- 
hension of  the  spiritual  basis  of  life  and  of  the  one- 
ness of  the  Universal  and  the  individual  Soul,  whereby 
he  realized  his  true  relation  with  the  Infinite.  Him 
all  men  reverence  but  none  comprehend.  "Surely," 
they  say,  "His  was  a  voice  from  heaven";  and  so 
he  has  become  a  fixed  star,  his  early  adherents  a 
constellation.  He  dared  so  assert  the  supremacy  of 
the  Soul  that  men  repudiate  their  manhood  and 
worship  him  as  God.  So  dazzling  is  that  vision  of 
man,  so  radiant  his  countenance  that  the  eyes  of 
men  are  put  out  and  they  behold  not  their  brother. 
Nineteen  centuries  have  elapsed  since  that  grand 
and  solitary  Soul  dared  assert  the  prerogatives  of 
mankind,  dared  rely  upon  the  Infinite  Love  and 
trust  the  Unseen.  But  the  voice  which  spoke  in  him 
speaks  in  us  today, — shall  speak  nineteen  centuries 
hence,  and  admonishes  us  likewise  of  our  divine 

[24] 


THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION 

origin  and  spiritual  inheritance.  The  Spirit  of 
Truth  within  us  rises  in  majesty  to  welcome  all 
expression  of  truth, — and  time  is  not.  Behold, 
men  like  ourselves  proclaimed  this  truth  and  saw 
these  visions.  And  now  shall  we  do  likewise;  shall 
lift  up  our  heads  from  the  dust;  shall  stand  again  for 
the  dignity  of  spiritual  manhood  and  proclaim  anew 
the  freedom  of  man  made  in  the  image  of  God,  and 
so  doing  shall  come  to  write  our  own  bibles.  For 
we  are  under  no  fatality  that  we  should  forever 
translate  Pali  and  Sanskrit,  Hebrew  and  Greek, 
that  we  may  hear  the  Word  of  God;  the  English 
tongue  will  serve  as  well  to  record  the  monitions 
of  the  Spirit. 

We  may  assign  as  the  basis  of  religion  the  idea  of 
God  and  the  recognition  of  the  Soul,  for  this  implies 
a  relationship  and  dependence.  And  the  love  of 
this  supreme  idea,  the  desire  for  a  deeper  realiza- 
tion of  this  idea,  the  yearning  which  in  some  minds 
seeks  satisfaction  in  union  with  the  universal  Soul, 
in  others  in  absorption  into  it,  and  in  others  again 
in  a  realization  of  the  present  and  eternal  identity 
of  the  individual  with  that  universal,  from  which  it 
has  never  been  and  never  can  be  separate, — this  is 
the  working  out  or  approximation  of  the  divine 
archetype,  and  constitutes  the  reason  and  purport, 
or  we  may  say,  the  idea  of  religion,  in  virtue  of  which 
man  must  always  seek  his  Maker.  This  longing 
implanted  in  the  human  heart,  this  groping  for  the 
Infinite,  while  primarily  natural  and  spontaneous, 
tends  always  in  the  hands  of  a  priesthood  to  become 
conventional  and  perfunctory  in  its  expression,  and 
to  congeal  into  various  dogmatic  systems. 

[25] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

In  considering  the  idea  of  religion  it  is  to  be  ob- 
served that  while  its  expression  is  prone  to  crystallize 
into  some  form,  it  is  itself  superior  to  all  forms;  it 
cannot  be  contained,  and  tends  to  escape  whenever 
there  is  any  conventional  or  molding  process.  To 
the  form  of  religion  man  has  contributed  all  that  is 
blackest  in  his  character;  to  the  idea  of  religion  he 
has  given  all  that  is  noblest.  Not  but  what  there 
is  a  time  and  place  for  every  phase  of  religious 
thought;  and  in  its  day  emotionalism,  which  is  pseudo- 
religion  par  excellence,  serves  as  one  swing  of  the 
pendulum  that  forever  oscillates  between  credulity 
and  apostasy,  between  orthodoxy  and  heterodoxy, 
reverence  and  fanaticism.  A  certain  refining  and 
evolutionary  process  is  always  in  order  in  the  re- 
ligious world,  whereby  certain  types  tend  to  become 
extindl  and  others  dominant  for  a  time.  The  decline 
of  any  phase  is  marked  by  the  degeneracy  of  rational 
belief  into  superstition  and  bigotry,  piety  into  phari- 
saism,  and  sandlity  into  cant.  But  we  should  per- 
haps discredit  none,  realizing  that  the  worst  have 
at  least  the  negative  virtue  of  undoing  themselves, 
while  that  central  idea  of  religion  remains  ever  in- 
tac"l  in  its  purity  and  sublimity,  though  temporarily 
misconstrued  and  even  lost  sight  of;  their  vice  lies 
in  living  out  of  date  and  beyond  their  time, — sau- 
rians  rampant  in  a  mammalian  age,  but  destined 
nevertheless  to  disappear. 

Under  the  impetus  of  this  idea  the  world  discards 
its  religious  speculations  as  a  growing  caterpillar 
moults  its  skin, — whenever  in  the  course  of  its  growth 
the  skin  becomes  too  close.  The  religious  world 
has  moulted  repeatedly  and  the  cast-off  integuments 

[26] 


THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION 

are  of  deep  interest  to  the  religio-paleontologist, 
forming  as  they  do  a  mould  or  cast  of  successive 
bodies  of  thought.  As  a  caterpillar  will  turn  and 
devour  the  skin  from  which  it  but  now  emerged,  so 
it  happens  not  infrequently  that  the  old  belief  is 
absorbed  and  incorporated  with  the  new.  The  Hel- 
lenic larva  after  successive  moults,  mythologic  and 
philosophic,  produced  the  Platonic  butterfly,  a  rare 
and  beautiful  fossil  perfectly  preserved  in  the  strata 
of  human  thought,  which  before  its  decline  doubt- 
less contributed  somewhat  of  its  essential  philosophic 
qualities  to  determining  the  form  of  the  then  newly 
arisen  type  of  Christianity.  From  Egypt  has  de- 
scended to  us  a  fragment  of  the  Hermetic  fossil,  by 
some  looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  Rosetta  Stone  to  the 
ancient  Wisdom  Religion;  from  remote  Persian 
antiquity  comes  the  Avesta,  dwindled  and  shrunken 
but  still  animate;  from  Sinai  proceeds  still  the  thun- 
der of  that  awful  and  unapproachable  Jehovah  of 
Judaism,  while  the  tablets  of  stone  are  set  up  within 
the  households  of  Christendom;  of  the  Chaldean 
and  Assyrian  there  remains  hardly  a  fragment.  In 
the  far  East  there  arose  a  true  Psyche — a  winged 
soul — to  flutter  over  the  hills  and  plains  of  Hindustan, 
which  retains  still  its  ethereal  beauty  nor  has  lost 
the  iridescent  sheen  of  its  glorious  wings;  and  the 
spirit  of  the  Upanishads  went  abroad  to  be  a  solace 
to  whomsoever  through  its  truth  should  find  the 
Way.  And  these  Upanishads  were  the  rich  spiritual 
soil  from  whence  sprang  the  gentle  Buddha,  to  in- 
vest with  the  force  of  a  transcendent  individuality 
some  phases  at  least  of  the  time-honored  truth,  and 
to  mark  even  at  that  early  day  a  recoil  from  the 

[27] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

perversion  and  extremes  of  priestcraft.  It  was  in 
Palestine  where  now  the  spirit  of  the  past  sits  brood- 
ing, and  nature  lies  under  the  spell  of  a  mighty 
reverie;  where  blossom  still  the  rose  of  Sharon  and 
the  lilies  of  the  field,  where,  in  the  solemn  landscape, 
silent  speclral  Bedouins  pursue  their  dreamy  way 
between  hedgerows  of  prickly  pear,  swinging  rhyth- 
mically on  stately  camels;  it  was  in  this  land  of  Syria 
that  the  ineffable  vision  of  truth  declaring  itself  in 
the  parable  and  imagery  of  Semitic  genius  was 
destined  to  sound  with  unequaled  sublimity  the 
Word  of  God;  while  it  was  in  succeeding  years  in 
Alexandria  that  the  streams  of  Semitic  and  Aryan 
thought  were  to  unite,  thenceforth  to  flow  onward 
through  the  centuries — the  great  river  of  Chris- 
tianity; the  fusion  of  Jewish  monotheism,  Jewish 
ethics,  and  Jewish  legendary  and  traditional  lore, 
with  the  philosophic  culture  of  Greece;  the  whole 
illumined  and  made  glorious  by  the  pure  radiance 
of  love, — the  law  that  supersedes  the  tablets  of 
stone,  the  light  that  removes  the  veil  of  the  past, 
the  benign  influence  that  softens  the  hearts  of  men 
and  makes  the  esoteric  teaching  of  Jesus  preeminent 
because  it  is  the  religion  of  love.  The  world  has 
since  rent  its  integument  in  divers  places.  But 
whether  it  was  a  sudden  and  meteoric  outburst  such 
as  the  appearance  of  the  Prophet  and  the  rise  of 
Islam,  or  the  more  gentle  appearance  of  Sufiism: 
or  as  in  the  Christian  world  a  rending  asunder  as  of 
Greek  and  Latin,  or  a  great  split  like  the  Reforma- 
tion, or  the  continued  disruptions  of  Papist  and 
Huguenot,  of  Establishment  and  Disestablishment, 
Dissenters,  Come-outers,  Calvinists,  Wesleyites, 

[28] 


THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION 

Swedenborgians,  Puritans,  Quakers,  Dunkards,  or 
what  not;  it  was  always  a  rift  and  readjustment  to 
suit  the  infinite  differentiation  of  human  needs.  And 
now  is  this  old  cuticle  cracking  still  and  peeling  here 
and  there. 

But  through  every  religion  there  runs  one  general 
line  of  cleavage  separating  it  into  two  parts,  into 
two  distinct  phases — mysticism  and  scholasticism. 
This  division  has  never  been  wanting  in  Christianity, 
but  since  the  days  of  the  German  Mystics  has  been 
perhaps  but  little  recognized,— for  the  expression  of 
mysticism  is  always  intermittent,  no  two  phases 
being  identical,  but  appearing  now  with  a  tran- 
scendental, again  with  some  other  aspect;  it  has 
seldom  been  institutional,  and  is  more  often  indi- 
vidual than  collective.  We  are  witnessing  in  these 
very  days  a  revolt  against  scholasticism  and  a 
renaissance  of  true  mysticism:  a  mysticism  that 
stands  for  truth,  and  for  the  spirit  as  against  the 
letter;  a  mysticism  that  represents  the  philosophy 
and  the  theosophy  of  Christianity  against  its  theology 
and  dogmatism;  that  accepts  the  Christ  in  the 
light  of  its  philosophic  antecedents  as  the  manifes- 
tation of  the  Logos,  the  bond  between  the  human 
and  the  Divine,  the  Light  that  lighteth  every  man 
that  comes  into  the  world;  that  divests  Jesus  of  his 
legendary  and  mythical  character,  and  looks  for 
the  birth  of  the  Christ  within  every  awakened  man; 
that  sees  in  the  finding  of  that  inner  Christ  the  Way 
which  leads  to  God,  in  the  assumption  of  that  Christly 
mind  the  ideal  of  the  spiritual  life.  And  it  beholds 
in  the  historic  Christ  an  example  of  the  divine  possi- 
bilities of  mankind  when  conscious  of  the  Logos  it 

[29] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

abandons  itself  to  God :  when  abiding  in  the  spiritual 
consciousness  it  shall  make  its  claim  accordingly 
and  shall  do  even  as  was  done,  and  still  greater 
things.  This  mysticism  is  not  concerned  with 
what  is  legendary  and  traditional  in  Christianity 
but  with  that  which  is  spiritual,  philosophical  and 
metaphysical, — with  that  spiritual  truth  which  Jesus 
applied  to  mankind,  in  the  realization  of  which  all 
men  become  sons  of  God,  and  of  which  his  life  and 
works  were  the  attestation.  It  would  aim  therefore 
to  live  spiritually  in  the  conviction  that  it  is  the  spirit 
which  avails  and  not  the  flesh;  that  it  is  expedient  to 
seek  and  work  for  that  which  is  permanent, — to  lose 
the  sensuous  life  of  strife  and  turmoil  in  order  to  find 
the  philosophic  life  of  peace  and  love.  Thus  it  seeks 
to  experience  a  rebirth  of  consciousness — to  be  born 
again — to  attain  a  child-like  purity  of  mind  that  there 
may  be  entered  that  state  of  harmony  with  the  facls 
of  love  and  being  which  constitutes  the  ever  present 
kingdom  of  heaven. 

The  scholastic  mind  of  today  looks  still  with  dis- 
favor upon  the  mystic.  Nevertheless  it  is  obvious 
that  mysticism,  or  the  perception  of  the  Divine  in 
man,  has  for  its  premise  that  basis  of  truth  which  must 
ever  find  corroboration  in  the  spiritual  mind,  whereas 
the  dogmas  of  scholasticism  do  not;  nor  can  we  fail 
to  recognize  the  fa6l  that  Jesus  himself  was  the 
Mystic  of  mystics.  And  though  mysticism  in  gen- 
eral may  be  liable  to  perversion  and  to  abuses  that 
lead  to  self-deceit,  scholasticism  has  been  productive 
of  greater  abuses  and  a  far  more  general  deception. 

It  is  preeminently  the  office  of  religion  to  be  the 
high  priestess  of  truth,  to  "show  the  besotted  world 

[30] 


THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION 

how  passing  fair  is  wisdom."  Reason  will  not  for  a 
moment  sanction  a  divorce  between  philosophy  and 
religion.  Philosophic  conviction  and  religious  faith 
are  not  only  compatible,  but  are,  properly  speaking, 
complementary;  and  to  cast  out  philosophy  from 
religion  is  to  degrade  the  latter  to  a  superstition. 
It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  ancient  term  theosophy 
has  lost  its  deep  and  universal  application  and  come 
to  have  so  limited  and  conventional  a  significance, 
for  it  best  expressed  the  idea  of  religion.  As  theology 
is  the  bane,  so  is  truth  the  genius  of  religion,  and 
serves  to  give  definite  aim  and  purport  to  human 
life  and  thought;  to  supply  the  necessary  bias  to  the 
mind  and  afford  consistency  and  reason  and  identity 
of  purpose  throughout  the  continuity  of  life  eternal; 
to  supply  a  thread  that  is  never  broken  but  shall  be 
taken  up  in  the  successive  phases  of  existence,  and 
without  which  life  would  be  fragmentary  and  dis- 
connected. Material  aims  are  devoid  of  continuity 
and  consistency  and  cannot  supply  this  thread,  but 
broken  ravelings  merely.  Given  the  fact  of  con- 
sciousness, and  the  mind  must  have  a  reality  of 
which  to  be  conscious — upon  which  to  reflect.  It  is 
plainly  its  function  to  be  conscious  of  truth,  and  to 
reflect  upon  that  which  is  real  and  essential  to  its 
life  and  progress. 

There  has  been  advanced  no  more  untenable 
proposition  than  the  dogma  of  Revelation;  an  ap- 
pointed time  and  place  for  the  revealing  of  truth. 
Truth  is  properly  not  so  much  revealed  as  it  is  dis- 
covered. It  stands  an  eternal  revelation  to  all  men 
who  are  able  to  perceive  it.  Our  obtuseness  is  the 
only  concealment;  as  we  ascend  the  mountain  the 

[31] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

view  expands.  To  take  to  oneself  credit  for  the 
discovery  savors  of  conceit.  God  is  speaking  ever  to 
those  who  have  ears  to  hear.  Were  one  who  had  been 
born  blind  suddenly  to  obtain  sight,  he  would  doubt- 
less cherish  his  first  perception  of  common  objects 
in  the  light  of  a  discovery,  and  would  say  of  the 
stars,  "what  glorious  and  shining  objects  have  I  not 
discovered  in  the  heavens!"  When  in  the  past  some 
one  received  his  spiritual  sight  we  speak  of  it  with 
bated  breath  as  revelation — a  something  super- 
natural. He  looked,  indeed,  upon  the  everlasting 
stars  at  which  we  blink  with  rudimentary  eyes;  and 
did  we  but  perceive  a  tithe  of  the  cosmic  revelation 
eternally  awaiting  our  recognition  we  would  be  over- 
whelmed with  the  majesty  of  our  position,  and  ever- 
more look  about  us  with  reverence  and  awe.  Would 
that  we  might  strike  from  the  Bible  the  word  fear 
and  write  love,  that  we  would  have  authority,  if  need 
be,  that  love  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.  The  at- 
mosphere of  Sinai  or  of  Patmos  was  no  more  favor- 
able to  clear  vision  than  is  that  of  Boston  or  New 
York.  Whoever  ascends  the  Sinai  of  his  own  being, 
whoever  retires  to  the  serenity  and  solitude  of  some 
inner  Patmos  or  Buddh-Gaya,  there  to  live  free  from 
outer  hindrance,  stands  in  a  fair  way  to  discover 
anew  some  fa6ls  of  being. 

Truth  takes  its  rise  not  from  the  Bible,  nor  the 
Upanishad,  nor  the  Avesta,  but  from  the  Soul,  and 
antedates  all  books.  These  preponderant  institu- 
tions, Christianity,  Brahmanism,  Buddhism,  Ma- 
hometanism,  Shintoism,  Jainism, — are  not  so  much 
religions  as  phases  of  religion.  Truth  comes  from 
within  and  is  recognized  in  the  book  only  upon  its 

[88] 


THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION 

inward  cognition.  Burn  every  book  and  there  would 
remain  a  residuum  of  truth  no  less  than  now  is. 
From  a  child  we  may  have  read  and  conned  the 
Bible,  but  not  until  the  day  of  our  regeneration  shall 
we  perceive  its  message;  and  in  that  day  we  shall 
feel  that  heretofore  we  have  read  and  heard  that 
mostly  which  was  unessential  and  without  real  im- 
port. To  love  and  understand  what  is  best  in  Brown- 
ing, or  Emerson,  or  Thoreau,  honors  one's  spiritual 
perception,  for  the  substance  of  their  writing  eludes 
the  purely  intellectual  mind.  When  one  speaks  of 
Thoreau  as  of  a  naturalist  merely,  it  may  be  assumed 
he  is  not  yet  able  to  read  Thoreau;  for  botany  was 
his  pastime, — religion  was  the  serious  pursuit  of  his 
life. 

The  language  of  the  Soul  is  the  same  for  all  times 
and  all  men;  it  is  a  key  to  what  is  worth  unlocking 
in  the  scriptures  of  all  races.  It  interprets  as  readily 
the  imagery  and  idiom  of  a  Semitic  as  of  an  Aryan 
or  a  Turanian  people.  A  Seer  speaks  from  the 
desert  and  his  words  pass  from  tongue  to  tongue, 
from  century  to  century,  and  are  received  with  a 
thrill  of  recognition  by  kindred  minds  today.  Who 
so  cosmopolitan  as  truth,  for  she  is  at  home  in 
Egypt  and  in  Syria,  in  Persia  and  in  India,  Europe 
and  America.  To  the  Persian  she  is  a  Persian,  to 
the  Arab  an  Arabian,  to  the  Hindu  a  Hindu,  but  to 
Christendom  she  remains  still  a  Hebrew. 

Love  of  God  is  the  reason  for  all  that  is  true  in 
religion  as  fear  of  some  god  or  devil — it  matters 
not  which, — is  the  ground  of  fetishism.  Only  that 
which  springs  from  the  heart,  only  that  which 
is  implanted  in  the  spiritual  consciousness  is  vital 

[S3] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

in  religion.  The  zenith  of  theology  points  the  nadir 
of  religion,  which  declines  with  the  ascendency  of 
dogma.  Such  is  the  disparity  between  the  nucleus 
of  truth  in  a  religious  system  and  the  tenets  of  the 
institution  that  has  been  builded  around  it,  that  the 
nearer  we  draw  to  the  central  figure  and  the  spirit  of 
his  philosophy,  the  further  do  we  depart  in  sym- 
pathy from  the  system. 

It  is  the  aim  of  religion  that  we  should  preserve 
our  integrity  before  God;  how  much,  then,  depends 
on  the  idea  of  God!  There  is  perhaps  no  such  thing 
as  an  absolute  atheism,  but  there  are  many  strange 
gods.  There  are  ninety-and-nine  beautiful  names  of 
Allah  and  there  are  as  many  that  are  not  lovely.  To 
deny  one  god  and  bow  to  a  supreme  God,  Fate, 
does  not  constitute  atheism  but  is  another  form  of 
monotheism;  as  to  believe  in  God  and  the  devil  is 
polytheism.  The  decline  of  mythology  no  doubt 
marks  the  ascent  of  religion,  but  it  is  no  abrupt 
transition  and  the  form  of  religion  reveals  always  a 
certain  mythologic  impress.  It  matters  not  whether 
our  Pantheon  be  of  deities  or  of  saints.  An  anthro- 
pomorphic God  is  the  child  of  mythology.  The 
Greek  in  the  day  of  his  myths  knew  naught  of  myth- 
ology, for  what  we  so  denominate  was  to  him  his 
religion;  and  posterity  shall  as  surely  ascribe  the 
taint  of  mythology  to  that  which  we  deem  our  re- 
ligion, for  the  religion  of  one  period  is  judged  some- 
what mythologic  from  a  later  and  more  advanced 
age.  The  world  has  passed  from  that  ancient  myth- 
ology, prehistoric  or  connate  with  the  beginnings  of 
history,  to  that  later  phase  which  is  premetaphysical 
and  now  merging  into  metaphysics.  And  there  are 

[34] 


THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION 

not  wanting  iconoclasts  that  would  overthrow  the 
gods  of  fate  and  chance,  of  wrath  and  arbitrary  de- 
crees, and  declare  the  one  true  God  of  Love,  knowing 
the  false  gods  to  be  the  projection  of  human  ignor- 
ance. In  the  words  of  the  Eleatic  Xenophanes: 

'  If  sheep,  and  swine,  and  lions  strong,  and  all  the 

bovine  crew, 
Could  paint  with  cunning  hands  and  do  what  clever 

mortals  do, 
Depend  upon  it,  every  pig  with  snout  so  broad  and 

blunt 
Would  make  a  Jove  that  like  himself  would  thunder 

with  a  grunt." 

Theology  has  inclined  ever  to  a  god  of  battle  and 
inferred  that  men  have  been  created  and  set  on  oc- 
casion to  war  with  one  another  that  principle  might 
be  vindicated.  But  principle  needs  no  vindication 
and  forever  asserts  itself.  Though  humanity  trans- 
gress as  one  man,  divine  law  remains  immutable: 
vengeance  though  sought  in  the  name  of  Infinite 
Love  returns  upon  the  seeker. 

A  religion  serves  a  truly  moral  and  beneficent  end 
only  in  so  far  as  its  scheme  is  in  accordance  with 
truth.  We  can  no  longer  afford  to  be  ignorant  of 
the  principles  of  metaphysics.  It  is  not  to  be  as- 
sumed for  a  moment  that  while  physical  science  is 
making  such  rapid  progress,  the  science  of  mind  it- 
self has  not  undergone  a  like  development.  Meta- 
physics, no  less  than  chemistry,  has  outgrown  its 
alchemistic  and  speculative  period  and  is  now  an 
applied  science.  It  has  been  remarked  that  there 
was  a  time  when  if  the  facts  did  not  agree  with  the 
dogmas  of  a  religion,  so  much  the  worse  for  the  facts. 

[35] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

There  may  be  those  who  still  regard  the  coach-and- 
four  as  the  only  proper  method  of  conveyance  and 
who  fondly  hope  to  see  it  reinstated.  Man,  despite 
what  he  may  appear  to  be,  is  a  spiritual  being,  hav- 
ing his  life  in  God  who  is  Spirit,  and  to  declare  him- 
self anything  less  than  that  is  to  disparage  his  chance 
of  present  realization  to  just  that  degree.  Being 
implies  the  inherent  equality  of  mankind:  theology 
sees  one  or  a  few  elevated  above  all  others.  Equity 
decrees  that  every  man  shall  accept  the  responsi- 
bility for  his  a6ls:  theology  would  have  one  assume 
the  responsibility  for  all.  Being  affirms  life  to  be 
continuous, — a  perpetual  sequence  of  cause  and 
effect;  theology  would  have  it  broken  and  discon- 
nected. 

All  men  have  some  religion,  but  few  have  the 
faculty  of  discerning  that  which  is  true  in  the  various 
forms  of  religion.  It  requires  rare  discernment  to 
distinguish  the  grain  of  wheat  in  its  bushel  of  chaff, — 
to  neither  overlook  the  seedlet  nor  be  overwhelmed 
and  smothered  in  the  chaff.  It  wants  a  fine  spiritual 
balance  to  go  thus  far  with  a  religion  and  no  further; 
to  go  the  full  measure  of  love  and  spirituality  and 
stop  short  of  theology  and  a  perversion  of  meta- 
physics,— to  accept  the  spirit  and  reject  the  letter; 
to  discriminate  between  that  which  will  encourage 
the  spiritual  and  perceptive  faculties,  and  that  again 
which  produces  atrophy  of  the  will  and  indifference 
to  present  life — and  leads  to  the  abyss  of  inertia. 
In  the  maze  of  philosophic  and  religious  systems 
through  which  the  inquiring  mind  may  wander, 
there  is  offered  always  the  safe  conduct  of  the  Spirit. 
Choose  none!  Reject  none!  But  take  from  all  that 

[36] 


THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION 

which  is  for  you  and  it  shall  be  given  you  to  con- 
struct therewith  that  which  will  sustain  you  and  best 
serve  your  development.  Be  true  to  your  Self  and 
all  shall  work  to  your  advancement:  be  true,  and 
truth  shall  appear  to  you  in  letters  of  light.  But 
false  to  your  Self,  you  shall  be  overwhelmed  in  the 
wilderness  of  error. 

There  is  nowhere  a  greater  lack  of  independence 
than  in  matters  of  religion.  It  is  now  sixty  years 
since  Emerson  remarked  with  rare  insight  that  it 
already  indicated  "character  and  religion*'  to  with- 
draw from  the  religious  meetings.  We  continue  to 
appoint  men  to  do  our  thinking  and  our  praying, 
nor  consider  it  derogatory  to  the  dignity  of  the  Soul 
that  another  should  undertake  to  make  our  peace  with 
heaven.  We  are  content  to  be  sheep  rather  than 
men,  and  to  walk  with  God  by  proxy.  The  fallacy 
of  institutional  and  ceremonial  religion  lies  in  assert- 
ing one  to  have  done  the  thinking  for  the  many,  in 
claiming  one  could  achieve  the  salvation  of  the  many. 
But  God  deals  not  with  communities  nor  races  but 
with  individuals,  and  every  man  shall  work  out  his 
own  salvation, — shall  save  himself  from  ignorance. 
How  may  he  do  this  if  not  by  thinking  for  himself; 
how  may  he  become  wise  if  not  by  his  own  efforts. 
Goodness  comes  not  by  another's  virtue  nor  wisdom 
by  another's  thinking.  The  idea  of  religion  stands 
out  clearly  to  the  spiritual  mind,  and  where  there  are 
the  more  mysteries,  the  more  obscure  signs  and 
symbols,  there  is  found  the  less  religion.  It  is  to  no 
purpose  that  the  paraphernalia  of  mystery  was 
designed  to  mask  the  truth  from  the  unfeeling  gaze 
and  to  reserve  the  esoteric  for  the  reverential  homage 

[37] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

of  the  initiate,  for  truth  will  out  to  whomsoever  is 
ready  to  receive  it.  There  is  no  need  to  conceal 
the  esoteric  from  the  vulgar,  for  it  is  its  own  conceal- 
ment. As  well  talk  of  concealing  telescopic  nebulae; 
astronomers  will  discover  and  map  them,  while 
farmers  will  never  look  for  them.  Signs  and  symbols 
no  less  than  pomp  and  ceremony  are  the  retainers  of 
a  system  and  serve  as  a  retinue  that  shall  impress  the 
multitude;  for  whereas  pomp  dazzles  the  eye,  the 
symbol  confuses  the  intellecl;. 

If  your  religion  is  the  result  of  another's  persuasion, 
be  assured  it  is  not  so  much  a  mark  of  spiritual 
growth  as  of  the  lack  of  individuality.  What  has 
the  soul  to  do  with  creeds  and  conversions  ?  If  you 
have  accepted  the  faith  of  your  fathers  as  such,  it  will 
fail  you.  We  are  required  each  to  derive  a  faith  of 
our  own,  and  none  other  will  suffice.  We  cling  to  an 
ancestral  belief,  but  not  until  we  give  up  this  faith 
in  another  shall  we  find  that  faith  in  ourselves  by 
which  alone  we  stand;  not  until  we  give  up  the  God 
in  the  skies  shall  we  behold  the  measure  of  our  own 
identity  with  the  Infinite ;  not  until  we  cease  looking  I 
for  the  heaven  of  the  future  shall  we  find  the  heavenj 
of  the  present.  We  must  look  to  it  that  our  religion 
leads  us  forward  and  not  backward.  You  who  have 
been  nurtured  in  the  cherished  traditions  of  a  time- 
honored  belief  shall  one  day  be  beset  with  doubts. 
You  cannot  escape  them;  they  are  incident  to  an 
ultimate  perception  of  the  idea  of  religion.  May 
you  welcome  that  day  and  encourage  those  doubts. 
They  are  angels  in  disguise  and  presage  the  appear- 
ance of  a  plant  from  the  seed  which  but  for  them 
would  have  rotted  in  the  ground.  When  you  have 

[38] 


THE  IDEA  OF  RELIGION 

said,  "I  ought  to  believe"  that  which  you  cannot 
believe,  you  have  belied  yourself.  Your  very  doubts 
shall  stimulate  you  to  a  faith  that  is  real,  as  your 
aspirations  imply  and  are  the  guarantee  of  that 
which  you  seek.  Say  not,  "Lord  help  me  in  mine 
unbelief,'*  but,  if  you  will,  "Lord  help  me  to  be  true 
to  myself."  It  has  been  said  that  to  doubt  the  evi- 
dence of  the  senses  was  the  first  step  in  philosophy. 
It  is  equally  true  that  to  doubt  the  evidence  of  any 
authority  recognized  as  absolute  or  infallible  is  the 
first  step  in  true  religion. 

We  need  never  despair  of  attaining  to  faith  be- 
cause of  present  doubts;  never  to  have  doubted 
would  signify  credulity  rather  than  faith.  We  shall 
not  discard  the  reason  and  repudiate  the  mind  be- 
cause they  declare  contrary  to  a  creed,  the  product 
of  some  mind.  Faith  is  transitive,  requiring  an  ob- 
ject, and  so  implies  that  its  object  is  supreme  to  the 
consciousness.  Faith  in  a  system  or  creed  or  any- 
thing external  to  us  is  subjection  to  what  is  im- 
permanent, and  hence  is  itself  ephemeral.  But  faitlf 
in  the  interior  Self  is  allegiance  to  that  which  shall ' 
stand  unmoved  when  the  heavens  and  earth  have 
passed  away.  How  shall  we  be  satisfied  with  book-' 
ishness  and  monkishness  who  must  have  religion? 
Shall  we  forswear  the  Soul  and  be  content  with  less 
than  truth?  How  can  we  refrain  from  inquiring, 
who  are  given  minds  wherewith  to  inquire  ?  Search ! 
Search!  Search! — that  religion  may  come  to  be  an 
invigoration,  a  resource  and  an  inspiration,  and  shall 
no  longer  be  deemed  a  token  of  weakness  and  decline. 

There  are  men  who  are  ashamed  both  of  appear- 
ing religious  and  of  not  appearing  so.     Into  such 

[39] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

disrepute  has  piety  fallen,  that  a  pious  man  is  often 
looked  at  askance,  and  is  suspe&ed  of  using  it  as  a 
cloak  for  nefarious  purposes.  Religion  is  a  tabooed 
subject  on  six  days  of  the  week.  How  do  we  fall 
short  of  the  idea  of  religion  that  religious  observance 
should  be  regarded  largely  as  a  solace  for  emotional 
women!  A  long  face  is  no  badge  of  faith.  A  gaunt 
hollow-eyed  spedler  is  no  saint.  You  shall  know 
one  is  truly  religious  by  his  joyousness.  Religion 
is  for  the  heroic  and  the  strong;  it  is  the  flower  of 
spiritual  manhood  and  womanhood.  It  is  not  for 
Sundays  alone  but  for  all  days.  We  read  of  a  prim- 
itive German  people  who  believed  in  a  Deity  too 
sublime  to  be  worshipped  in  temples  made  with 
hands.  How,  then,  has  our  God  dwindled  that  we 
must  seek  him  always  within  some  petty  enclosure! 
When  religion  springs  from  the  heart  we  need  enter 
no  church,  but  perceive  that  all  times  are  times  of 
prayer — that  living  is  praying, — and  the  universe 
but  the  cathedral  of  the  Spirit,  the  fixed  stars  the 
angles  of  its  entablature,  the  signs  of  the  zodiac  its 
frieze.  Set  times  and  set  places  as  well  as  formulas 
and  creeds  all  conspire  against  what  is  true  and  ring- 
ing and  joyous  in  religion.  A  man  proclaims  his 
religion  in  his  life  and  shows  it  in  his  face;  worships 
God  in  the  nobleness  of  his  life,  and  shows  his  rev- 
erence in  the  love  of  men  and  of  animals;  reveals  it 
in  tolerance,  kindness,  gentleness  and  strength. 
Our  love  of  mankind  is  the  measure  of  our  love  of 
God;  our  faith  in  the  eternal  goodness,  eternal 
progress,  is  the  test  of  our  religion. 


[40] 


IV.  THE  NATURE  OF  PRAYER 

AfAYS  has  the  mountain  peak  been  a 
symbol  of  things  spiritual,  and  Ida  and 
Olympus,  Sinai  and  Fujiyama  bear  wit- 
ness of  the  dignity  with  which  it  is  in- 
vested. It  typifies  the  ascent  from  a  gross  conscious- 
ness to  a  broader  outlook,  a  more  inspiring  view. 
The  dweller  on  the  mountain  looks  abroad  over  the 
fogs  that  obscure  the  lowlands;  and  he  who  beholds 
life  from  the  vantage  of  spirit  no  longer  feels  the 
limitatiqns  that  beset  the  natural  man, — limitations 
that  vanish  before  the  all-discerning  spiritual  vision. 
To  behold  good  as  partial  betokens  shallowness  and 
is  virtually  to  deny  God.  All  things  are  possible  to 
man  on  the  spiritual  plane  of  life.  Space,  time  and 
personality  are  finite  conceptions  that  shall  one  day 
fade  from  the  mind.  Man  is  a  chord  in  the  divine 
harmony,  a  channel  to  the  Supreme  Intelligence. 
As  the  Soul  is  one  with  the  Infinite  so  surely  is  it 
heir  to  all  things.  Shall  we  not  believe  that  the 
things  the  Father  hath  are  ours  ?  We  may  recognize 
without  only  that  which  is  already  within,  for  the 
objects  of  desire  are  but  the  projections  of  the  mind. 
The  noumenon  is  the  unseen  but  eternal  entity,  the 
spiritual  prototype  of  the  phenomenon,  which  though 
seen  is  but  ephemeral. 

Only  in  the  world  of  ideas  may  things  be  said  truly 
to  exist;  and  we  are  the  proper  agents,  each  according 
to  his  capacity  to  make  them  manifest.  In  all- 

[41] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

pervading  desire  the  mind  becomes  one  with  the 
essence  of  its  desire.  Does  it  desire  purity  ?  It  iden- 
tifies itself  with  the  principle  of  purity;  it  touches  the 
Infinite  at  that  point,  and  forthwith  the  stream  of 
purity  flows  through  that  mind  which  becomes  its 
channel.  In  the  realm  of  ideas  exist  all  possible 
architectural  forms;  man  the  architect  focuses  his 
thought  on  this,  his  desire,  and  lo,  cities  are  built. 
So  man  the  carpenter  or  the  mechanic  becomes 
the  agent  of  the  Infinite  as  surely  as  does  man  the 
sculptor  or  the  painter. 

But  we  are  bound  by  the  consciousness  of  matter. 
We  show  our  materialism  most  in  what  is  termed 
our  spiritualism,  that  we  should  seek  always  to 
materialize  that  which  is  spiritual.  Why  must  we 
look  to  some  exhibition  to  be  convinced  of  the  ever 
present  reality  of  the  Spirit — or  of  spirits,  for  that 
matter  ?  It  is  on  a  par  with  pinching  oneself  to  see 
if  one  is  alive.  When  we  are  fully  known  to  our- 
selves we  shall  doubtless  find  that  no  separation 
ever  takes  place  between  the  Soul  and  its  affinities, 
that  no  separation  is  possible.  It  is  from  the  living 
that  we  are  often  the  more  remotely  separated.  No 
wonder  we  cannot  speak  with  the  departed  when  in 
all  our  life  together  we  never  spoke  them,  never  once 
addressed  the  spirit  in  them  but  were  content  with 
a  babbling  intercourse — a  mere  crossing  of  shadows. 
What  is  there  to  prevent  our  communicating  with 
those  who  must  ever  remain  near  to  us  save  only 
our  uncommunicativeness,  our  dullness  and  lack  of 
versatility  and  spiritual  address?  We  are  poor 
listeners  as  yet  to  spiritual  things,  and  must  appear 
dull  indeed  to  one  who  attempts  to  converse  with  us 

[42] 


THE  NATURE  OF  PRAYER 

from  an  unseen  plane.  With  what  patience  must 
these  unseen  friends  din  in  our  spiritual  ears  and 
pass  before  our  spiritual  eyes,  awaiting  our  tardy 
recognition.  But  we  are  unseeing  and  unheeding 
and  unbelieving,  and  must  have  a  sign — a  rapping 
on  the  wall  or  the  prating  of  some  one  in  a  darkened 
room.  A  sign!  Always  a  sign!  As  if  there  were 
anything  not  a  sign  of  the  spiritual  entity;  as  if  the 
phenomenon  were  anything  but  a  symbol.  To  have 
lived  is  the  sign  of  continued  and  perpetual  life; 
and  the  yearning  for  a  recognition  of  the  invisible 
is  itself  the  assurance  of  the  spiritual  presence.  We 
shall  not  have  a  material  perception  of  spiritual 
things,  but  of  material  things  only;  and  would  we 
bridge  the  Beyond  and  dwell  here  and  now  in  spirit- 
ual companionship  we  shall  spiritualize  our  own 
natures  rather  than  seek  to  materialize  the  Spirit. 

We  see  in  the  world  a  steadfast  adherence  to  a 
form  which  usurps  the  office  of  prayer:  a  kind  of 
ecclesiastical  dust  thrown  in  the  eyes  of  men.  Here 
is  not  prayer  but  an  expression  of  faithlessness  in 
the  divine  order;  a  weekly  report,  as  it  were,  from 
the  officious  heads  of  departments  to  an  incompetent 
executive,  with  suggestions  for  governing  the  uni- 
verse and  directions  for  the  amelioration  of  ap- 
parently untoward  conditions. 

He  who  is  filled  with  a  sense  of  the  Divine  Love 
and  resigns  his  life  to  its  keeping,  presumes  not  to 
dictate  as  to  the  outcome.  He  who  prays  to  a  just 
God  asks  not  for  a  suspension  of  law,  which  would 
not  be  justice;  who  prays  to  a  God  of  Wisdom  pre- 
sumes not  to  instruct  One  who  is  All- Wise.  A  man's 
idea  of  God  is  an  infallible  test  of  his  condition. 

[43] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

Does  he  pray  to  a  God  of  Revenge,  so  surely  is  he 
himself  revengeful :  if  to  a  God  of  Love,  then  does  he 
esteem  love  the  greatest  of  all  things.  Men  pray  to 
Mars  and  to  Athene,  but  as  there  was  in  Athens,  so 
is  there  still  within  the  human  heart  an  altar  to  the 
Unknown  God. 

True  prayer  is  not  a  petitioning,  but  a  claiming; 
it  is  begotten  not  of  infirmity  of  the  will,  but  of 
assurance, — is  not  weakness  but  strength;  and  he 
that  apprehends  the  nature  of  prayer  bends  not  the 
knee  but  towers  in  majesty.  He  goes  forth  to  meet 
his  own;  he  ascends  the  mount  to  speak  with  God. 
It  is  the  beggar  asking  alms,  the  slave  imploring 
mercy,  who  grovel  in  the  dust. 

Prayers  are  not  spoken,  they  are  lived.  Our  lives 
are  our  prayers  and  they  are  answered  each  after 
its  own  kind,  be  the  seeking  for  worldliness  or  for 
wisdom.  But  this  babbling — this  lip  service  in  which 
we  foolishly  indulge,  is  confuted  by  the  very  flowers 
of  the  field.  The  blossom  unfolds  its  petals,  and  in 
its  fragrance  and  its  color  expresses  its  desire;  thus, 
it  offers  its  prayer  and  waits  assured  of  the  answer,— 
assured  of  the  visit  of  the  bee  that  shall  consum- 
mate its  life's  purpose. 

In  considering  the  nature  of  prayer  we  must  dis- 
tinguish between  prayer  in  its  divine  sense  and  the 
mere  unconscious  psychical  action  of  irrelevant  de- 
sire; for  prayer  may  function  on  different  planes,— 
it  may  be  exalted  or  it  may  be  abased.  There  is  the 
prayer  of  animality,  the  prayer  of  intellectuality, 
and  the  spiritual  prayer,  and  all  are  answered  but  only 
the  last  brings  peace.  When  one  says  he  never  prays, 
he  means  that  he  never  prays  consciously — perhaps 

[44] 


never  wisely.  The  prayer  of  weakness  is  answered 
in  weakness,  the  prayer  of  folly  in  foolishness.  Our 
very  vacillation  and  indirectness  saves  us  from  much 
we  might  bring  upon  ourselves,  for  conflicting  de- 
sires offset  each  other. 

The  mind  is  not  contained  within  the  skull  but 
envelopes  and  surrounds  the  man,  as  does  the 
corona  the  sun,  and  like  the  latter  is  of  no  permanent 
dimensions,  but  it  expands  and  undulates,  sending 
out  jets  of  thought  far  into  the  mental  atmosphere. 
The  efficiency  of  prayers  depends  on  the  state  of 
this  mental  envelope,  for  it  is  the  ultimate  and 
spiritualized  function  of  thought  to  be  the  vehicle 
of  prayer.  As  two  minds  may  communicate  at  a 
distance  in  virtue  of  telepathy,  through  the  medium 
of  prayer  the  mind  becomes  en  rapport  with  the 
Infinite  and  with  the  sum  of  all  kindred  minds.  To 
be  entirely  absorbed  in  a  single  purpose  is  to  become 
for  the  time  a  pool  into  which  shall  sweep  the  flood 
tide  of  the  mind  of  humanity.  When  in  this  way 
an  outlet  is  made,  the  supply  will  come  as  water 
seeks  its  level.  What  are  termed  the  qualities  have 
this  attribute,  that  they  tend  to  augment  themselves 
through  the  force  of  attraction.  Let  a  man  counte- 
nance a  little  passion  in  himself  and  it  is  a  bid  for  the 
like  quality  wherever  it  may  exist, — a  nucleus  around 
which  shall  be  deposited  layer  upon  layer  of  the  same. 
The  possession  of  any  quality  is  in  itself  a  species  of 
prayer,  tempered  and  offset  by  differing  qualities 
and  modified  by  desires.  Goodness  is  forever  link- 
ing to  itself  goodness;  charity  is  always  attracting 
charity.  Kindness  calls  the  love  out  of  men's  hearts; 
and  a  perverse  nature  ransacks  every  mind  with 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

which  it  comes  in  contact  in  its  efforts  to  call  out  a 
similar  disposition.  The  atmosphere  with  which  we 
surround  ourselves  becomes  in  a  measure  the  magnet 
of  our  destiny. 

There  is  a  steep  gradient  from  the  mere  mental 
attitude  and  its  attraction,  and  the  play  of  thought, 
up  to  the  ultimate  step  of  which  the  individual  is 
capable,  the  realization  of  direct  contact  of  the  Soul 
with  the  universal;  and  it  is  this,  the  spiritual  office, 
that  should  perhaps  alone  be  dignified  with  the  name 
of  prayer.  Prayer  so  considered  is  spiritual  activity; 
it  is  a  power  that  touches  the  very  springs  of  action 
and  sets  in  motion  the  machinery  of  the  heavens. 
It  is  here  that  we  gather  the  scattered  threads  of 
diffusive  thought  and  give  singleness  and  direction 
to  the  spiritualized  faculties,  and  prayer  becomes 
the  great  uplifter  and  regenerator;  it  opens  the  doors 
from  littleness  to  greatness,  from  weakness  to  strength. 
Cease  your  striving  and  pray,  for  prayer  is  the  royal 
road  to  wisdom;  but  we  must  learn  to  pray  wisely — 
to  rise  to  the  full  heights  of  prayer.  To  recognize 
that  life  is  prayer  is  to  abjure  triviality.  The  ability 
to  control  and  direct  the  spiritual  forces,  to  discern 
and  keep  well  in  mind  the  intent  and  bearing  of  all 
thought  and  action — in  a  word,  the  faculty  of  praying 
wisely — is  the  highest  prerogative  of  spiritual  man- 
hood, and  its  possession  the  virile  evidence  of  power. 
In  this,  its  pure  form,  prayer  is  the  short  cut  to  the 
attainment  of  ideals,  to  which  the  methods  of  strife 
and  outward  effort  are  but  blind  trails.  Only  when 
we  have  become  engrossed  in  the  Soul,  only  when  we 
are  assured  of  the  all-sufficiency  of  the  divine  relation- 
ship, may  we  utilize  the  spiritual  forces  of  prayer. 

[46] 


THE  NATURE  OF  PRAYER 

The  nature  of  spiritual  prayer  is  dual;  it  is  breath- 
ing and  the  air  breathed;  it  is  seeking  and  that  which 
is  sought.  Thought  and  concentration,  these  are 
its  vehicles;  wisdom,  truth,  love — of  such  is  its  basis. 
It  is  the  ultimate  spiritual  concept;  it  is  a  drawing  of 
the  Soul  toward  God, — the  sublime  expression  of 
trust  in  that  which  is  not  seen.  We  may  but  rev- 
erently intimate  the  sublimity  of  this  the  bond  be- 
tween the  Infinite  and  the  Soul,  for  it  is  to  be  appre- 
hended spiritually;  the  terms  of  three  dimensions 
will  not  serve  to  express  the  fourth. 

"  He  prayeth  best  who  loveth  best 

All  things  both  great  and  small ; 
For  the  dear  God  who  loveth  us, 
He  made  and  loveth  all." 

The  mother's  love  for  her  child  is  a  prayer  that  finds 
answer  in  the  happiness  and  well-being  of  the  child; 
and  so  is  her  fear  a  prayer  of  weakness  that  is  none 
the  less  answered.  The  scholar's  love  of  culture  is 
a  prayer  that  is  answered  in  the  advancement  of 
learning;  the  artist's  love  of  the  beautiful,  a  prayer 
that  finds  answer  in  grace  and  perfection  of  form, 
in  color  and  composition.  The  sun's  love  of  the 
earth  is  a  prayer  that  finds  response  in  the  beauty 
and  sublimity  of  nature;  and  the  Soul's  love  of  God 
is  the  prayer  of  prayers  which  is  answered  by  all 
that  is  ineffable  and  transcendent,  and  by  the  "peace 
of  God  which  passeth  understanding." 

We  shall  divest  prayer  of  its  arbitrary  character 
and  see  in  it  the  working  of  law.  Faith  is  the  essential 
of  spiritual  prayer;  the  faith  of  the  child  who  ques- 
tions not  his  wants  shall  be  supplied.  Any  shade  or 

[47] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

variation  from  absolute  faith  vitiates  prayer;  and 
this  may  be  shown  in  the  nature  of  cause  and  effedt, 
for  assurance  begets  assurance,  but  from  uncertainty 
comes  no  certainty.  A  prayer  without  assurance  is  a 
sum  of  additions  and  subtractions  whose  result  may 
be  zero.  Its  action  may  be  compared  to  opposing 
forces  that  cancel  each  other.  With  all  our  dis- 
paragement of  external  a6ls  of  faith  and  of  the  ob- 
jedls  of  such  faith,  we  yet  cannot  gainsay  the  mar- 
velous efficacy  of  faith  itself,  for  it  works  miracles 
despite  the  object  on  which  it  is  pinned — be  that 
never  so  trivial.  The  psychic  activity  directed  toward 
bits  of  wood  and  stone  has  done  what  reputed  science 
could  not  do;  Lourdes  is  a  facl;!  If  faith  in  bread 
pills  and  rusty  nails  will  produce  results,  how  much 
more  shall  faith  in  God  accomplish. 

The  rationale  of  prayer  is  clearly  expressed  in  that 
profoundly  logical  query  as  to  what  man  if  his  son 
ask  bread  would  give  him  a  stone.  Why,  indeed, 
if  we  ask  for  a  fish  should  we  look  for  a  serpent? 
But  we  mar  our  destiny  through  seeking  what  we 
do  not  need  and  expecting  that  which  we  do  not 
wish.  Trust!  Trust!  How  can  there  be  life  with- 
out faith  ?  To  doubt  the  goodness  of  God  is  to  belie 
mother  and  father.  When  the  Personal  God  no 
longer  suffices  we  turn  to  the  Immanent  God;  from 
separateness  and  duality  to  oneness  and  identity. 

"  They  reckon  ill  who  leave  me  out ; 
When  me  they  fly,  I  am  the  wings." 

It  is  the  appointed  order  of  human  life  to  work 
from  sense  to  reason,  from  reason  to  intuition;  and 
so  it  is  the  nature  of  man  to  essay  first  his  self-will 

•     [48] 


THE  NATURE  OF  PRAYER 

which  is  foolishness,  but  after  weariness  untold  to 
be  brought  to  the  cognition  of  the  Divine  Will  which 
is  wisdom.  The  more  we  would  strive  to  be  and  do 
of  ourselves  alone,  the  less  have  we  to  show  of  perma- 
nent and  beneficent  result.  In  the  life  of  self-will 
the  day  comes  when  one  by  one  every  expedient 
shall  have  failed:  then  do  we  turn  our  thoughts 
within.  "When  matter  is  exhausted,  spirit  enters." 
Through  all  fa6ls,  experiences,  visions,  one  ultimate 
facl;  shines  supreme;  this,  namely,  that  being  spirit 
we  are  in  touch  with  the  Infinite;  that  God  has  not 
left  us  but  is  within  us,  and  to  our  awakening  touch 
the  Infinite  responds.  When  we  shall  give  free 
course  to  the  love,  the  power,  the  wisdom  which  are 
around  and  within  us,  we  shall  be  irresistibly  im- 
pelled to  all  good  ends.  He  who  boldly  lays  claim 
to  the  real  prerogatives  of  man  which  are  spiritual, 
who  eledls  henceforth  to  walk  with  God,  shall  be 
reinforced  by  Infinite  Power  and  shall  be  wise  by 
the  communications  of  the  Supreme  Mind. 


[49] 


V.    PRACTICAL  IDEALISM 

IF  WE  are  to  be  utilitarian,  let  it  be  in  a  true 
and  broad  sense.  Exclude  not  the  Spirit  which 
gives  life;  exclude  not  the  beautiful,  which  has 
a  vast  bearing  on  life.  Be  true  to  the  import 
of  utilitarianism  and  utilize  whatever  is  available. 
Men  will  not  be  content  with  electricity  and  com- 
pressed air  and  steam,  but  shall  pass  on  to  psychic 
forces  and  harness  these.  We  may  not  stop  short  at 
action  but  shall  deal  with  thought  which  precedes 
and  conditions  action.  Invention  has  provided  us  no 
rapid  transit;  it  is  at  best  a  snail's  pace.  We  shall 
soon  tire  of  creeping  thus.  A  little  less  cultivation 
without:  a  little  more  within.  Let  us  no  longer  be 
indifferent  to  real  issues;  inner  forces,  divine  rela- 
tionship— shall  they  be  ignored?  Let  us  infuse 
some  daring  into  the  utilitarian  mind  and  essay  the 
wings  of  the  Spirit. 

What,  then,  is  utilitarianism?  Is  it  something 
apart  from  art  ?  Is  it  something  separate  from  beauty, 
from  the  spiritual,  the  psychic,  the  occult?  Then 
something  apart  from  being  and  hence  a  figment. 
Let  us  pour  new  life  into  the  old  forms  if  we  must 
still  retain  them.  Let  us  lay  aside  our  ancient  his- 
tory, our  ancestral  gods ;  let  us  be  up  and  thinking. 
The  vice  is  not  utilitarianism,  but  it  is  that  utilitarian- 
ism is  faint-hearted, — mole-eyed.  It  would  hitch  up 
Dobbin  but  leaves  Pegasus  out  to  pasture;  it  invents 
spectacles  but  sees  no  visions.  And  now  it  would 

[50] 


PRACTICAL  IDEALISM 

prove  that  the  Soul  is  immortal.  But  religion  and 
inspiration  come  not  so.  The  bread  of  life  is  not  to 
be  baked  in  loaves.  He  who  must  have  algebraic 
demonstration  of  the  Soul  would  not  be  greatly 
benefited  by  the  proof. 

The  apostle  of  realism  must  first  learn  what  is 
real;  the  advocate  of  might  must  know  wherein  is 
true  power.  So  shall  he  come  to  deal  with  sub- 
stance and  not  shadow,  with  the  unseen  often, 
rather  than  with  the  seen.  In  our  effort  to  be  practical 
let  us  be  divinely  practical — not  stupidly  so.  Shall 
we  then  save  our  pennies  and  waste  our  thoughts; 
shall  we  bolt  the  house  door  and  leave  open  the 
door  of  the  mind;  fumigate  the  dwelling  and  take 
no  precaution  against  mental  contagion?  Shall  we 
sit  in  our  sun  parlors,  but  exclude  the  blessed  sun- 
shine of  love, — toast  our  feet  and  freeze  our  hearts  ? 
There  comes  a  time  when  we  must  have  done  with 
symbols  and  consider  the  reality.  Faith!  Sugges- 
tion! Thought!  These  are  the  agents  of  a  spiritual 
energy  of  which  force  is  but  the  sign.  To  be  deeply 
practical  is  to  engage  spiritual  activities,  to  utilize 
the  mind  to  which  we  are  channels, — to  let  the  tide 
run  our  mills;  it  is  the  ability  to  utilize  occult  affini- 
ties, to  use  to  the  utmost  the  cosmic  force  of  love. 

There  is  a  spiritual  hearing  and  a  spiritual  seeing. 
Five  senses  will  not  suffice;  the  utilitarian  must  needs 
have  seven  or  more  to  develop  his  full  capacity.  The 
practical  world  once  did  without  steam,  once  paid 
its  bills  in  garden  stuff — so  much  hay  or  potatoes  for 
a  pair  of  boots.  And  five  senses  shall  presently  be 
as  inadequate  as  a  currency  of  cowrie  shells;  we 
must  have  a  more  universal  medium  or  be  left  in 

[M  3 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

the  lurch.  Gravity  carries  freight  and  moonshine 
will  float  ships.  But  there  are  forces  more  intangible 
than  moonshine,  and  on  this  tide  shall  our  ships  come 
in.  It  was  only  necessary  to  liquefy  air  to  reveal  a 
new  field  of  available  energy;  and  the  control  of 
thought  shall  disclose  the  vast  field  of  spiritual 
dynamics. 

Here  are  those  who  claim  to  be  healed  by  thought; 
others  who  run  and  leap  because  of  faith.  We  have 
hugged  our  delusions  and  they  have  failed  us;  but 
these  have  found  new  delusions — it  may  be — and 
cannot  contain  their  joy.  It  were  well,  perhaps,  to 
forsake  the  old  delusion  for  the  new  if  such  are  its 
fruits.  Let  us  brave  the  dragon  of  public  opinion 
and  see  if  here  is  not  something  we  may  utilize  and 
thus  add  to  our  utilitarian  category.  What  faith 
have  we  not  put  in  ipecac  and  pills,  and  with  what 
returns — O  ye  gods !  They  have  stayed  not  the  hand 
of  the  Lord.  Shall  the  obituary  column  teach  us 
nothing?  A  soul  passing  from  some  bedside  every 
second  of  time  and  leaving  there  its  house  of  clay — 
sad,  mute  commentary  on  the  unavailing  phials! 
What  if,  after  all,  the  idealist  has  become  more 
practical  than  we? 

Strictly  speaking,  all  men  are  in  a  sense  idealists, 
far  though  they  may  be  removed  from  sympathy 
with  the  spirit  of  idealism, — the  difference  lies  in 
their  ideals.  Whatever  in  the  mind  stands  for  truth; 
whatever  sum  of  ideas  impresses  itself  as  paramount; 
whatever  concept  is  entertained  of  the  existing  order, 
is  the  ideal  upon  which  it  dances  attendance, — be 
it  never  so  sophistical.  That  which  we  actually  be- 
lieve to  be  the  best  of  which  the  universe  is  capable, 

[52] 


PRACTICAL  IDEALISM 

such  is  our  ideal, — such  our  present  inspiration,  or 
our  damning  limit.  If  our  ideas  are  emotional  rather 
than  rational,  so  will  be  our  lives.  Vulgar  ideals 
make  vulgar  people;  fleshly  ideals  make  sensualists. 
And  the  consecration  of  thought  to  transcendent 
ideals  is  responsible  for  poets  and  seers.  The  ma- 
terialist is  a  man  of  material  ideals  and  holds  an  ideal 
of  himself  as  a  thing  of  atoms, — of  flesh  and  bones; 
his  materialism  is  the  outcome  of  this  ideal  of  him- 
self and  of  the  universe.  Men  are  influenced  diredtly 
by  that  which  they  believe  and  not  by  what  they 
would  like  to  believe.  We  become  optimists  or  pes- 
simists according  to  the  harmony  or  inharmony  of 
our  own  minds.  This,  namely,  that  we  work  from 
ideals  to  externals, — specifically,  that  ideals  are 
externalized  in  the  body — is  the  psychology  of  the 
ideal,  the  practical  aspect  which  distinguishes  mod- 
ern idealism.  It  is  not  the  soul  which  grows  but 
our  realization  of  it  merely,  and  it  is  this  that  con- 
stitutes development.  Growth  is  the  process  of  un- 
covering and  bringing  to  light  that  which  is,  rather 
than  any  accretion  from  without.  This  process  of 
discovering  hidden  truth — of  uncovering  the  Soul — 
may  be  likened  to  a  journey  through  well  nigh  im- 
penetrable forests,  seeing  at  rare  intervals  a  fitful 
glimpse  of  the  overarching  blue,  and  plunging  again 
into  abysmal  depths.  And  to  us  there  come  at  times, 
as  to  Siegfried,  the  offspring  of  Wotan,  strains  of  a 
sublime  motive,  awakening  knowledge  of  the  Soul's 
greatness, — intimations  of  a  divine  lineage. 

Sanity  does  not  consist  in  conformity  to  custom, 
nor  to  social  precedents  and  human  decrees,  as  such, 
but  to  whatsoever  in  these  is  in  accordance  with 

[53] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

truth.  Sanity,  out  and  out,  is  nothing  less  than 
parallelism  with  truth.  It  alters  not  the  case  that 
our  departure  is  conventional;  the  results  of  aberrant 
thought  are  always  evident.  One  unfortunate  be- 
thinks himself  a  god  and  is  taken  to  the  asylum;  but 
many  another  made  in  the  spiritual  image  of  God 
dubs  himself  a  miserable  bit  of  clay.  Unsoundness 
of  a  certain  kind  is  prevalent  wherever  men  are  not 
true  to  God  and  to  the  brotherhood  of  man;  and 
every  man  is  still  unbalanced  who  perceives  not  his 
own  divinity.  Oh,  for  the  divine  physician  who  shall 
cast  out  these  devils  from  our  consciousness;  for  the 
spiritual  mind  which  shall  bring  us  peace;  for  the 
tonic  of  pure  thought  which  shall  make  us  whole! 

Idealism  per  se  never  attains  the  fatal  dignity  of  a 
system;  it  is  always  somewhat  undefined  and  open 
to  further  accessions  of  truth.  It  is  rather  a  spiritual 
bias  and  predilection — a  refined  clay,  plastic  in  the 
hands  of  every  age,  which,  whenever  the  time  is  ripe, 
is  molded  to  the  form  of  some  philosophic  system. 
The  philosophy  of  the  ideal  is  indeed  older  than 
history;  idealism  was  already  venerable  when  writing 
was  invented.  But  it  has  now  come  upon  practical 
times  and  received  a  new  investiture,  a  new  value; 
and  its  gift  to  this  age  is  the  science  of  mental  thera- 
peutics. 

This  budding  science,  classed  by  the  unthinking 
as  a  kind  of  astrology  or  necromancy,  is  perhaps  the 
astrological  stage  of  an  exacl;  science  destined  to 
revolutionize  all  therapeutic  systems.  It  starts  with 
the  premise — and  this  premise  at  least  was  known 
to  Swedenborg — that  the  members  of  the  body  are 
correspondences,  their  various  functions  symbolic 

[54] 


PRACTICAL  IDEALISM 

of  the  spiritual  office,  and  not  in  themselves  final; 
eye  and  ear  of  an  inner  vision  and  hearing;  hands 
and  feet  of  certain  faculties;  sex  of  the  creative 
principle;  head,  torso,  limbs,  all  corresponding  to 
the  spiritual  man.  And  this  has  given  rise  to  an 
experimental  psychology  that  shall  be  of  use  outside 
of  the  schoolroom.  Hitherto  has  psychology  been 
milk  for  babes;  here  is  meat  for  strong  men.  Op- 
posite our  category  of  emotions  we  must  now  write  a 
corresponding  list  of  effects.  Here  are  grief,  fear, 
anger,  hatred  and  the  rest  arising  in  the  mind,  and 
far  from  vanishing  into  thin  air,  our  psychology  re- 
veals that  they  a 61  directly  to  derange  the  functions  of 
heart,  lungs,  stomach  and  liver.  Here  again  are 
love,  trust,  joy  and  serenity  acting  to  produce  normal 
conditions  and  to  sustain  the  body  in  health.  Here, 
then,  is  the  remedy  for  the  effecls  of  false  emotion; 
where  fear  has  deranged,  love  will  restore.  And 
through  force  of  pure  logic  we  are  constrained  to 
admit  that  false  emotion  and  wrong  ideals  are  re- 
sponsible for  pathologic  conditions.  We  read  in  the 
earliest  scriptures  that  it  was  then  an  old  rule  that 
hatred  was  overcome  by  love,  never  by  hatred;  and 
now  it  appears  that  anger  and  hatred  are  productive 
of  poison  in  the  blood,  and  true  to  the  old  rule,  this 
is  overcome  by  the  current  of  love.  There  is  a  cer- 
tain sympathy  and  co-relation  between  the  advance 
of  physical  science  and  this  new  psychology — strange 
bed-fellows  though  they  may  be.  Science  demon- 
strates telepathy,  and  this  becomes  at  once  the 
vehicle  of  this  idealism,  the  winged  Mercury  of  this 
therapeutic  Jove — the  emissary  from  the  rational 
to  the  erring  consciousness.  Again  the  intuitive 

[55] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

perception  of  the  idealist  is  corroborated  by  the 
chemist  analyzing  the  blood  under  stress  of  various 
negative  emotions,  for  lo!  there  are  the  poisonous 
produces  corresponding  to  each  and  every  one.  When 
before  did  chemistry  reveal  facl;s  so  momentous — big 
with  revolution  and  the  downfall  of  hoary  systems. 

It  is  precisely  because  of  the  revelations  of  this 
transcendental  psychology  that  ontology  is  become 
the  basis  of  idealism,  and  that  present  idealism  is 
so  largely  metaphysical,  for  the  demonstrated  effecls 
of  thought  and  emotion  serve  to  emphasize  the  vital 
character  of  the  science  of  Being.  We  must  know 
entity,  essence  and  substance,  not  as  abstractions, 
but  as  means  of  life,  as  targets  for  thought.  Whether 
good  or  evil,  order  or  chaos  obtains, — whether  evil 
exists  at  all, — shall  not  be  a  matter  of  sentiment  but 
of  metaphysics.  And  it  is  in  its  metaphysics  that 
our  idealism  stands  most  indebted  to  the  past:  its 
psychology  is  the  child  of  this  vigorous  century.  So 
in  this  marvelous  coming  age  our  lares  etpenates  is  to 
be  a  volume  of  metaphysics  and  a  treatise  on  mental 
therapeutics  in  place  of  the  old  family  medicine  book. 

The  ground  on  which  we  stand  is  derived  from 
earlier  formations,  from  prehistoric  lands,  but  sand 
is  sand  and  clay  is  clay,  whether  they  figure  in  sec- 
ondary or  in  tertiary  rocks.  The  Rocky  Mountains 
are  journeying  piecemeal  to  the  sea,  there  to  lay 
down  new  strata  of  the  old,  old  material  which  doubt- 
less shall  be  re-elevated  and  become  the  territory  of 
future  races.  And  so  do  the  grains  of  truth  of  an 
Archean  metaphysics  constantly  figure  in  newer 
formations.  If  we  briefly  examine  into  the  philo- 
sophical grounds  of  this  idealism,  we  are  made 

[56] 


PRACTICAL  IDEALISM 

sensible  first  of  the  influence  of  the  Upanishads  de- 
claring the  inner  Self — absolute  and  unconditioned; 
the  venerable  Aryan  doctrine  of  nescience;  and  the 
perception  of  the  Self  as  the  basis  of  freedom  and 
happiness.  And  so  does  our  idealism  inculcate  a 
rather  modified  and  practical  Yoga, — a  relating  of 
the  consciousness  to  the  real,  and  a  concentration 
of  thought  thereon;  in  other  words,  the  assumption 
and  maintenance  of  a  God-consciousness.  Here  are 
none  of  the  externals  of  Christianity  but  much  of 
the  cherished  teaching  of  Jesus,  proclaiming  the 
relation  of  man  to  the  Father,  the  efficacy  of  love, 
and  of  faith, — the  necessity  for  spiritual  living. 
Never  since  the  days  of  the  primitive  Church  has 
such  unqualified  allegiance  been  offered  to  the  glori- 
ous spirit  of  that  man's  teaching  as  is  manifest  in 
the  idealism  of  today;  never  before  has  his  life  and 
work  been  brought  home  to  us  with  equal  fervor 
and  made  so  real,  so  tangible,  so  very  present.  And 
for  this  reason,  if  for  no  other,  this  day  would  leave 
its  radiant  mark  on  history;  this  page  would  be 
turned  down  for  future  reference.  As  for  the  rest, 
it  is  perhaps  not  overstating  it  to  say  that  idealism 
must  always  be  indebted  to  Plato;  that  here  is  some 
trace  of  the  broader  principles  of  the  Stoics,  though 
none  of  their  self-limitation.  Here  also  the  a  priori 
knowledge  and  intuitionalism  of  Kant  and  of  the 
Transcendentalists,  God,  freedom,  and  immortality, — 
now  as  then.  Here  also  Swedenborg's  doctrine  of 
Correspondences,  or  its  counterpart.  But  here  is 
something  more  substantial  than  the  visions  of  Plo- 
tinus.  Here  are  no  howling  dervishes,  as  some  would 
have  it,  foaming  at  the  mouth  and  walking  over  the 

[57] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

bodies  of  infants.  As  we  glance  backward  through 
the  long  vista  of  years — over  idealism  in  its  many 
phases  to  Vedic  times,  when  kings  sat  at  the  feet  of 
wise  men — we  perceive  that  it  everywhere  reverts  to 
one  common  source — the  Soul. 

In  the  nature  of  a  composite  it  assuredly  now  is — 
but  it  is  more  than  this.  It  has  focused  many 
benign  rays  but  has  caught  some  further  effects  of 
the  spedlrum  as  well.  The  watchword  today  is 
application-,  it  would  make  of  itself  an  applied 
science.  The  hidden  dodlrine  is  made  public.  The 
fragments  gathered  here  and  there  it  has  fitted  to- 
gether with  fair  accuracy,  and  has  builded  a  firm 
foundation.  This  stability  has  it  secured,  and  thus 
potent  are  its  fa6ls,  that,  whereas  the  idealist  was 
once  a  crank  and  with  difficulty  adjusted  himself 
to  life,  he  who  lives  in  this  present  idealism  fares 
somewhat  better  than  other  men;  his  mind  is  clearer, 
his  eye  brighter  and  his  step  more  elastic.  If  men 
do  not  apprehend  the  peculiar  tenor  of  his  views, 
they  still  recognize  that  he  has  somewhat  that  they 
have  not,  an  assurance  born  of  trust, — a  freedom 
which  they  lack;  and  they  attribute  it  doubtless  to 
destiny,  or  luck,  or  inheritance  and  temperament. 
But  it  is  truth  alone  which  shall  make  us  free,  and 
a  very  little  lends  us  wings.  Here  is  a  little  phi- 
losophy well  rounded  at  any  rate,  for  it  treats  of 
man — not  of  fingers  and  toes  merely,  but  of  man 
in  his  essence  and  in  his  entirety;  of  man  the  spirit, 
and  his  garment  the  mind,  and  his  outer  garment 
the  body — and  of  the  relation  and  dependence  of 
the  outer  upon  the  inner. 

This  is  the  mark,  then,  by  which  the  idealism  of 

[58] 


PRACTICAL  IDEALISM 

these  times  shall  be  known,  that  it  aims  to  be  practical, 
that  it  is  the  friend  of  the  present,  of  the  eternal  Now. 
It  has  asserted  for  itself  an  individuality  in  this  rad- 
ical departure  from  medieval  and  recent  idealism, 
for  it  is  not  content  to  hope  merely, — it  would  realize. 
It  asks  believing  that  it  has  received.  It  is  no  post- 
ponement, no  mere  glimpse  of  a  future  bliss  that  bids 
us  put  up  with  present  ills;  but  it  would  have  us  see 
that  now  is  the  accepted  time,  and  demands  of  us 
regeneration  to  the  end  that  we  may  uncover  the 
Soul  and  shed  its  luster  upon  these  present  conditions. 
It  claims  to  bake  bread;  it  is  applied  or  nothing. 
And  who  shall  say  it  is  not  exacting, — as  truth  is 
exacting.  It  demands  first  a  moral  cure;  if  the  eye 
offend,  pluck  it  out.  It  says  wisdom  conditions 
happiness;  therefore  first  be  wise.  It  delves  deep 
and  lays  its  finger  on  the  diseased  spot  in  mind. 
Cut  out  the  moral  cancer;  give  a  tonic  for  the  mental 
debility;  build  up  the  understanding.  It  deals  with 
cause  first,  last,  and  always;  and  this  is  its  para- 
mount claim  to  practicality.  It  has  evolved  a  sys- 
tem of  spiritual  economics;  it  is  a  moral  disciplin- 
arian, an  ethical  martinet.  If  man  is  spirit,  then  no 
patching  and  painting  of  the  exterior  will  set  him 
on  the  right  road;  as  well  sew  up  the  crater  of  a 
volcano  with  intent  to  stop  an  eruption.  He  must 
get  into  alignment  with  truth — with  the  facls  of 
being.  If  the  consciousness  is  warped,  straighten 
it  out.  If  man  has  related  himself  to  the  seeming, 
bring  him  back  to  the  real;  put  him  in  touch  with 
his  divine  source  and  God  will  work  miracles  through 
him. 
This  idealism  is  accused  of  some  extravagances; 

[59] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

and  why  not,  since  we  may  have  a  metaphysical  as 
well  as  a  theological  dogmatism.  But  a  sifting  process 
is  ever  at  work.  We  need  but  give  an  extremest  rope 
enough.  Men  have  always  been  a  little  fearful  lest 
truth  were  not  self -sustaining;  and  all  systems  receive 
a  vast  deal  of  boosting  and  propping  which  their 
truth  needs  not  at  all,  and  which  is  ever  inadequate 
to  uphold  their  tottering  error.  It  is  a  puny  truth 
indeed  that  needs  our  vociferations.  The  roots  of  a 
practical  idealism  are  permeating  many  institutions 
and  modes  of  living.  Physical  culture  assumes  a 
new  basis  and  its  enlightened  advocates  address 
themselves  to  the  mental  action  as  the  governing 
principle  in  physical  exercise;  and  so  with  voice 
culture.  A  psychological  basis  is  found  for  the 
kindergarten  and  the  young  idea  is  taught  to  shoot 
with  definite  aim.  Wherever  its  roots  reach,  there 
is  the  ground  stirred,  there  begins  a  new  life, — a 
new  activity.  The  "advanced  movement"  of  every 
age  is  the  bantling  of  great  idealism.  And  now 
from  the  rock  of  truth  has  it  made  its  imperative 
call, — there  "raised  high  the  perpendicular  hand 
in  America's  name." 


F60] 


VI.   THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF 
THOUGHT 

WE  STAND  so  nearly  upon  the  border 
of  the  unseen  world  that,  though 
prone  to  deny  its  very  existence,  we 
must  commonly  express  the  material 
in  terms  of  the  immaterial — as  when  we  speak  of  the 
"weight"  of  a  body  we  must  express  it  as  a  measure 
of  gravity, — that  is  to  say,  in  terms  of  force — inap- 
preciable by  the  senses. 

Energy  is  known  to  the  senses  by  its  effect  only, 
and  the  more  available  the  form  of  energy  the  less 
crude  is  its  embodiment.  In  the  progress  of  the  arts 
we  work  first  with  that  which  appeals  to  the  five 
senses,  but  through  the  refining  action  of  mind  we 
deal  eventually  with  force  direct.  Now,  as  the  effi- 
ciency of  refined  oil  is  superior  to  that  of  a  tallow 
dip,  or  as  gas  is  superior  to  oil,  or  electricity  to  gas — 
so  is  that  subtle  energy  known  as  thought  more  potent 
than  electricity. 

Yesterday  the  vast  efficiency  of  electricity  went 
for  nothing;  today  the  mind  has  harnessed  the  in- 
tangible and  commands  the  unseen.  We  whisper 
across  the  Atlantic;  we  put  an  ear  to  the  ground  and 
hear  the  voice  of  the  world.  The  schoolboy  reads 
of  the  modern  miracles  of  Edison  and  of  Roentgen, 
and  dozes  over  the  book  whose  simple  statement 
would  have  confounded  Newton.  The  child  that 
rides  in  a  trolley  car,  speaks  through  a  telephone, 
and  can  prove  the  earth  is  round,  passes  judgment  on 

C6l] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

the  world  that  arraigned  Galileo.  And,  wise  in  our 
day  and  generation,  we  would  now  stand  for  some- 
thing incontrovertible.  But  no!  The  flood  has 
swept  the  place  where  we  stood  yesterday  and  Shall 
cover  the  ground  whereon  we  now  stand.  We  shall 
presently  see  that  nothing  is  stable;  that  only  Being 
is.  We  are  working  from  the. circumference  to  the 
center — from  the  seeming  to  the  real;  and  from  the 
dark  caverns  of  the  human  mind  the  bats  are  flitting 
silently  before  the  light.  That  which  is  ridiculed 
one  day  becomes '  axiomatic  the  next.  Today  we 
burn  witches,  and  tomorrow  attend  seances.  Wit- 
ness, then,  how  relative  are  all  things — for  it  is  not 
the  light  we  have  seen,  but  its  reflection  in  the 
myriad  mirrors  of  the  mind;  and  no  man  presents 
a  plane  mirror  but  such  as  have  all  degrees  of  curva- 
ture, both  concave  and  convex — and  all  images  are 
distorted. 

The  child  of  the  future  shall  marvel  at  the  reputed 
wisdom  of  this  day;  and  as  we  read  with  incredulity 
of  that  Roman  Catholic  world  that  declared  the  earth 
was  flat,  so  shall  he  read  in  pitying  wonder  of  those 
races  of  men  that  builded  great  nations,  possessed  a 
vast  commerce,  were  skilled  in  the  arts — yet  failed 
to  perceive  the  significance  of  thought. 

Men  talk  vaguely  of  the  ideal  and  the  real:  one 
for  poet  and  one  for  banker.  But  the  ideal  is  the 
only  real,  and,  as  we  shall  learn,  is  alone  practical. 
Let  us  have  done  with  the  false  distinction — it  is  the 
real  and  the  unreal  that  confront  us.  Here  is  a 
practical  age,  and  common  sense  is  greatly  esteemed ; 
but  our  common  sense  is  oftenest  nonsense.  It  is 
the  uncommon  sense  that  should  be  made  common: 

[62] 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THOUGHT 

the  sense  to  perceive  and  hold  fast  the  real.  Stocks 
and  bonds — a  princely  income — seem  real  and  sub- 
stantial ;  but  a  lack  of  confidence — a  thought  of  fear- 
enters  the  minds  of  men,  and  that  value,  apparently 
so  solid  and  enduring,  vanishes  into  thin  air.  The 
thought  alone  remains.  The  eloquent  speaker  to 
whom  we  listen  today  is  gone  tomorrow;  but  his 
thought  lives  and  bears  fruit. 

Thought  is  a  living,  active  force;  it  is  a  mode  of 
vibration  whose  rate  is  not  yet  ascertained;  it  is  the 
thunderbolt  of  Jove,  and  its  adlion  is  irrevocable. 
As  we  think,  so  are  we.  The  condition  of  the  body 
is  the  mathematical  resultant  of  the  parallelogram 
of  thought  forces;  so  is  the  condition  of  the  money 
market;  so  is  the  world;  and  so  is  every  man's  life: 

"All  that  we  are  is  the  result  of  what  we  have 
thought;  it  is  founded  on  our  thoughts;  it  is  made 
up  of  our  thoughts.  If  a  man  speaks  or  acTs  with  an 
evil  thought,  pain  follows  him,  as  the  wheel  follows 
the  foot  of  the  ox  that  draws  the  carriage.  ...  If  a 
man  speaks  or  a<5ls  with  a  pure  thought,  happiness 
follows  him,  like  a  shadow  that  never  leaves  him." 

In  the  control  and  direction  of  thought  lies  the 
method  of  true  reform,  which  deals  with  causes,  not 
effecls;  it  opens  the  way  to  individual  emancipation 
and  progress,  and  the  regeneration  of  society  shall 
follow,  but  no  convention,  no  mass-meeting  will 
avail;  it  is  a  question  for  the  individual — a  silent  re- 
form. It  is  love  in  the  heart  and  corresponding 
thoughts  in  the  mind  that  shall  bring  peace  on  earth. 
A  little  observation  shows  that  the  mind  projects  its 
thought  upon  the  world's  canvas ;  the  canvas  is  nothing, 
but  the  thought  merits  our  profound  consideration. 

[63] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

We  are  "out  of  sorts,"  and  all  men  and  events 
appear  to  be  at  cross  purposes;  we  are  in  a  cheerful 
frame  of  mind,  and  the  whole  world  seems  to  re- 
joice. We  may  trace  the  thought  of  anger  or  fear 
to  its  deleterious  effect  upon  the  body;  its  adlion  is 
unfailing, — and  we  may  as  surely  witness  the  whole- 
some influence  of  benign  thoughts.  The  prevailing 
thoughts  and  aspirations  of  the  men  and  women  of 
today  shall  be  fadlors  in  the  mental  caliber,  tempera- 
ment, and  moral  status  of  the  children  of  tomorrow — 
and  the  explanation  of  many  unlooked-for  proclivities. 
A  present  devotion  to  art,  a  love  of  the  beautiful,  and 
the  worship  of  truth — all  shall  bear  fruit  in  the  com- 
ing race.  Joy  or  despondency,  purity  or  sensuality — 
whichever  is  propitiated  shall  become  the  fairy 
godmother  of  our  children.  The  mothers  of  this 
day  are  shaping  the  destinies  of  the  men  of  the  future; 
and  to  the  emancipation  of  women  must  we  look  for 
the  elevation  of  the  race.  The  teeming  population 
of  the  globe  is  truly  one  family,  and  the  thought  and 
influence  of  each  member  are  communicated  ad 
infinitum.  No  man  shall  so  much  as  in  thought 
contribute  to  the  degradation  of  woman  but  he 
weaves  a  dark  thread  in  the  life  of  races  yet  to  be 
born. 

This  perplexing  problem  of  disease  finds  its  only 
solution  in  the  relation  that  exists  between  mind  and 
body.  We  ask  ourselves  why  the  majority  of  men 
pass  out  of  this  life  through  the  agency  of  disease; 
why  it  is  so  exceptional  to  hear  of  a  "natural  death"; 
why  so  seldom  a  perfectly  normal  and  sound  body? 
And  there  is  but  one  logical  answer:  The  body  is 
built  by  the  mind,  and  it  is  the  departure  from  truth — 

[64] 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THOUGHT 

it  is  erroneous  thinking  that  causes  bodily  imper- 
fection and  disease.  Disease  is  not  a  thing  in  itself; 
it  is  not  a  "roaring  lion  seeking  to  devour,"  but 
merely  a  register,  an  indicator,  of  mental  error.  A 
mind  perfectly  controlled  and  directed  ever  upon 
the  truth  will  produce  a  normal  body  and  maintain 
it  in  a  state  of  equilibrium,  which  is  health.  It  is 
fear  that  is  contagious,  not  disease;  it  is  fear  that 
spreads  epidemics.  The  fearless  are  invulnerable. 

The  sweet,  cool  breeze  that  rustles  the  poplar 
leaves  and  comes  laden  with  the  scent  of  clover  and 
new-mown  hay;  the  gentle  rain  that  is  life  to  tree  and 
flower  and  every  blade  of  grass ;  the  most  microscopic 
and  lowly  form  of  life — in  one  and  all  is  seen  the  pos- 
sible messenger  of  death,  invested  with  strange  power 
to  sweep  us  from  the  earth.  We  are  taught  that  noth- 
ing is  so  insignificant  but  it  may  become  the  agent 
of  desolation;  the  very  elements  are  in  conspiracy 
against  the  life  of  humanity.  Is  this  God's  world, 
then,  and  can  these  things  be  ? 

The  fa6l  is,  we  are  still  animistic  in  our  beliefs; 
we  are  still  adherents  of  a  crude  and  primitive 
naturism  that  bows  to  malignant  powers  in  the  air 
and  water.  It  has  no  doubt  been  somewhat  con- 
venient to  have  this  scapegoat  of  malicious  drafts 
and  dampness  and  bacteria  upon  which  to  shift  the 
responsibility  of  our  ills — for  it  is  a  humiliating  cir- 
cumstance, this  publishing  abroad  our  various  fail- 
ings in  distorted  bodies:  our  unruly  tempers  and 
surly  dispositions,  our  egotism  and  selfishness,  our 
craven  fears  and  our  lack  of  equanimity  and  trust — 
but  it  is  a  convenience  for  which  we  pay  dear.  We 
are  so  many  aborigines,  with  our  wind  devil  and  our 

[65] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

rain  devil;  but  we  may  no  longer  shirk  the  responsi- 
bility of  our  own  thoughts. 

Right  thinking  is  the  key  to  health  and  happiness; 
wrong  thinking  the  cause  of  misery  and  disease. 
Herein  lies  the  genius  of  the  coming  age — the  corner- 
stone of  modern  metaphysics,  which  renders  worth- 
less all  scholastic  systems  and  inaugurates  an  era  of 
applied  and  practical  philosophy:  a  philosophy  of 
love,  which  finds  its  application  in  the  uplifting  of 
human  ideals,  in  the  betterment  of  human  conditions, 
and  in  the  demonstration  of  the  supremacy  of  spirit 
and  the  reign  of  law, — an  application  too  far-reaching, 
a  basis  too  broad,  to  be  contained  within  the  bounds 
of  se6l  or  school. 

In  the  name  of  religion,  what  crimes  have  not  been 
perpetrated?  She  has  been  a  Juggernaut  in  her  de- 
mand for  human  victims.  Nor  are  the  days  of  the 
Inquisition  yet  over.  There  is  a  silent  inquisition — 
an  inquisition  of  pernicious  dogma,  whose  work- 
ings are  secret  and  unrecognized  and  whose  dread 
decrees  have  wrought  sorrow  in  the  land.  Hosts 
have  succumbed  in  fear  of  it — of  its  unending  and 
horrid  hells;  of  the  damnation  of  little  children,  the 
pure  flowers  of  humanity;  of  a  literal  day  of  judg- 
ment, awaited  in  terror  by  the  timid  and  sensitive. 
Such  dogma  has  been  in  many  a  fair  blossom  the 
canker-worm  that  let  it  fall  untimely  to  the  ground. 
It  is  the  letter  that  kills.  The  day  of  judgment  shall 
never  "come" — it  is;  there  is  a  tribunal  set  up  within 
every  man;  he  is  judged  of  his  thought,  and  his  body 
gives  evidence  whether  it  be  of  love  or  of  fear. 

The  mind  is  a  loom — incessantly  weaving;  and 
thoughts,  good  and  true  or  idle  and  vicious,  are  the 

[66] 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  THOUGHT 

warp  and  woof  of  that  fabric  the  mind  weaves,  and 
which  we  call  our  lives.  Men  weave  side  by  side, 
nor  see  what  the  result  shall  be.  One  weaves  a 
Cashmere  shawl;  another  but  a  bit  of  patchwork. 
But  all  must  weave,  and  the  thread  is  free — be  it 
fine  or  coarse,  silk  or  cotton.  To  choose  thread  that 
shall  be  fine  yet  enduring,  colors  that  shall  be  deli- 
cate yet  bright  and  harmonious,  designs  of  strength 
and  symmetry — such  is  the  province  of  the  skilled 
weaver. 

Our  thoughts  have  grown  old;  we  no  longer  run 
and  leap.  The  Greek  youth  apes  the  manners  of  a 
Frenchman  and  lolls  in  the  cafe;  but  the  Parthenon 
stands  an  eloquent  reminder  of  the  days  when  men 
perceived  more  clearly  the  eternal  youth  of  the  Soul 
and  embodied  its  perfection.  All  the  world  goes  to 
copying  the  Venus  de  Milo  or  the  Psyche  of  Capua, 
as  if  youth  and  beauty  had  been  entombed  with 
Phidias  and  Praxiteles,  to  rise  no  more. 

It  is  recorded  in  the  Vedas  that  time  was  when 
the  mountains  were  winged  and  flew  about;  but 
Indra  clipped  their  wings,  whereupon  the  moun- 
tains settled  down  upon  the  earth  while  their  wings 
remained  floating  above  them  as  clouds.  So  the 
youth  goes  forth  in  the  strength  and  vigor  of  a  mind 
untrammeled,  and  sees  that  all  things  are  for  him 
to  conquer — nor  sets  bounds  to  his  winged  thoughts; 
but  presently  the  Indra  of  this  world  clips  his  wings, 
and  the  middle-aged  man  settles  down  with  the 
weight  of  a  mountain,  anchors  himself  firmly  by 
his  senses,  and  wonders  how  long  it  will  be  before 
he  shall  get  underground  altogether. 

We  dwell  in  a  world  of  thought.   These  vagrants — 

[67] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

we  know  not  whence  they  come;  which  is  our 
thought  and  which  another's?  The  home  is  sacred; 
we  reserve  the  right  to  say  who  may  enter  and  who 
may  not.  Shall  it  be  otherwise,  then,  with  the  mind  ? 
The  mind  is  holy;  it  is  a  temple.  Alas,  that  it  should 
be  entered  irreverently.  "When  thought  is  purified, 
then  the  Self  arises;"  and  the  mind,  purged  of  all 
that  is  unlovely  or  untrue,  shall  radiate  serenity 
and  beneficence. 


VII.   CHARACTER  AND  ITS 
EXPRESSION 

ENDLESS  are  the  marks  of  identification  we 
carry  about  us,  whether  the  insignia  of 
rank,  or  mental  scars  and  birthmarks. 
The  evidences  of  our  present  outlook — 
the  impress  of  the  restless  mind  upon  the  plastic 
clay — are  written  all  over  the  man,  and  head,  face 
and  hands  are  pages  on  which  are  crowded  hiero- 
glyphics, or  which  are  still  left  blank.  Here  is  a 
vacant  space  where  knowledge  shall  one  day  put 
her  seal  and  stamp  the  indelible  lines, — furrows  of 
insight  between  the  brows.  Command  is  written  in 
a  nose,  resistance  in  a  chin,  and  lust  or  sweetness  in 
a  mouth.  Look  to  the  chin  for  bulldog  pertinacity 
but  to  the  brow  and  nose  for  the  sign  of  the  cloud- 
compelling,  irresistible,  god-like  character.  Look  to 
the  high  cheek  bones  for  the  Indian  fighter,  but  to 
the  firm  and  furrowed,  yet  serene  and  smiling  mouth, 
for  the  poise  which  marks  the  self-conqueror,  the 
invincible.  As  a  man  carries  his  burdens,  so  does 
he  carry  himself,  ere<5t  or  bowed  over;  as  he  controls 
or  is  controlled,  so  does  he  stride  or  shamble;  as  he 
holds  his  head,  such  assurance  has  he  in  himself; 
and  according  as  his  perception  is  small  or  great 
does  he  grope  in  his  walk  or  move  with  the  sanguine 
and  unshaken  confidence  of  one  who  trusts. 

We  are  autobiographers  one  and  all;  writing  vol- 
umes in  our  eyes  and  mouths,  recording  the  history 
of  the  past  and  predictions  for  the  future.  That 

[69] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

which  we  would  not  tell  another  he  is  reading  in  our 
eyes;  that  of  which  we  are  unaware  is  betrayed  in 
the  shape  of  the  head.  Promise  yet  unfilled  is  in- 
scribed upon  the  brow;  the  shadows  of  the  past  are 
still  shadows  on  the  face.  Here  are  truth,  sincerity, 
repose,  shining  in  these  eyes,  a  beacon  to  all  who 
may  scan  the  human  face;  here  are  kindliness  and 
beneficence  speaking  from  these  silent  lips.  One 
says  in  an  off  moment  that  he  cannot,  but  his  thumbs 
know  better  and  proclaim  the  indomitable  will.  The 
knotty  hands  bespeak  the  philosophic  mind,  the 
tapering  fingers  reveal  the  love  of  art.  We  may  look 
into  the  upturned  faces  in  a  crowd  and  read  the 
history  of  civilization  from  savagery  to  refinement. 
There  are  faces  that  bear  the  impress  of  the  Iron 
Age;  faces  that  still  have  the  stamp  of  the  Stone  Age, 
and  those  that  would  seem  to  lick  their  chops  and 
snarl.  And  there  are  faces  that  are  a  load-stone  to 
our  virtues  and  draw  forth  the  pith  and  marrow  of 
our  excellence;  faces  that  command  us  to  stand 
ere6l;  faces  that  bid  us  be  happy. 

We  continually  set  a  value  upon  ourselves  in 
everything  we  do.  Here  are  we  ensconced  behind 
a  mask  of  flesh,  as  a  theater  stands  behind  the 
posters  that  advertise  what  manner  of  performance 
is  taking  place  within,  whether  tragedy  or  comedy. 
To  write  your  name  is  to  publish  your  present  worth 
and  your  deficiency.  The  pen  is  the  veriest  telltale 
and  hastens  to  write  down  the  caliber  and  distinction 
of  the  mind  that  directs  it,  and  to  announce  its  secret 
foibles;  runs  up-hill  or  down,  hops  and  skips  or  plays 
the  laggard,  crosses  t's  or  omits  them,  writes  coarse 
or  fine,  forms  every  letter  and  makes  every  dot  and 

[70] 


CHARACTER  AND  ITS  EXPRESSION 

dash  in  accordance  with  the  bent  of  this  same  mind. 
In  our  letter  we  forward  unwittingly  our  credentials 
to  friend  and  stranger,  expressing  the  amplitude  of 
our  vibration,  the  measure  of  our  content,  our  hopes, 
our  equanimity.  There  are  letters  that  are  colorless, 
that  have  no  luster  and  never  sparkle  even  in  the 
kindliest  light,  and  to  receive  such  a  flabby  missive 
is  like  shaking  a  clammy  hand;  there  are  others  that 
are  full  of  force  and  originality  and  breathe  vitality 
and  good- will;  others  that  bristle  with  idiosyncrasies. 
Some  letters  are  messengers  of  hope, — bright  joyous 
airs  suddenly  striking  upon  the  ear;  and  some  are 
like  a  discordant  note, — scratchy,  wheezy,  complain- 
ing lines.  There  are  men  whose  every  letter  enriches 
our  thought  and  is  like  a  glimpse  of  some  fair  garden; 
they  waft  the  perfume  of  heliotrope  and  mignonette, 
and  we  fancy  we  have  seen  the  gleam  of  humming- 
birds in  the  climbing  honeysuckle. 

The  voice  is  one  envoy  of  character  that  represents 
us  at  the  court  of  the  world.  Deep,  full  and  sonorous, 
it  carries  conviction,  commands  and  assures;  bluster- 
ing and  noisy,  it  betokens  latent  coarseness;  smooth 
and  polished,  reveals  the  diplomat.  A  sincere  jovial 
voice  rings  true,  and  is  the  sweetest  music  to  the  ear. 
We  hear  voices  that  are  weary  and  voices  that  are 
sad;  athletic  voices,  and  voices  with  lame  backs; 
elementary  voices — those  that  express  mental  dif- 
fusion and  incoherence;  others  concentrated  as  lye. 
Listen,  and  we  shall  hear  the  animal  affinities  speak- 
ing through  the  voice, — whining,  growling,  purring, 
cackling.  There  are  voices  that  are  even  and  bal- 
anced and  tell  of  stable  equilibrium;  tones  eloquent 
and  persuasive;  tones  that  are  full  of  sympathy  and 

[71] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

which  soothe  and  caress.  Others  there  are  that 
when  they  have  ceased  it  is  to  feel  that  an  angel  has 
passed  our  way.  But  it  is  when  we  laugh  that  we 
are  taken  unawares.  Some  men  seldom  if  ever  laugh 
aloud,  and  there  are  those  whose  laugh  is  hollow  and 
mirthless.  A  certain  laugh  betrays  moral  disintegra- 
tion, and  there  is  that  again  which  sounds  clear  and 
reinforcing  as  the  taps  of  a  hammer,  and  builds  for 
us  a  little  sound  palace  of  merriment.  Sweet  is  the 
contagion  of  a  benign  smile  and  a  genial  laugh. 

But  where  indeed  may  we  draw  the  line,  for  the 
very  cobblestones  have  tongues  and  walls  have  ears. 
"Wear  at  the  toe,  spend  as  you  go;  wear  at  the  heel, 
spend  a  great  deal."  What  character  in  a  well- 
worn  pair  of  boots,  eloquent  of  the  dignity  of  their 
owner,  or  bespeaking  frivolity,  or  plain,  unvarnished 
sense!  In  shaking  hands  is  discovered  somewhat  of 
the  mind's  complexion, — for  a  man  either  gives  or 
withholds  himself  in  his  salutation  and  in  either  case 
betrays  his  attitude,  and  for  the  moment  his  tem- 
perament ekes  out  at  his  fingers'  ends  and  pervades 
you  through  your  arm, — sanguine  or  despondent, 
electric  or  phlegmatic.  The  clasping  of  hands  is 
always  a  contact  of  the  poles  of  two  batteries,  from 
which  ensues  attraction  or  repulsion  according  to 
the  conditions.  In  our  tastes,  our  pursuits,  our 
clothes,  do  we  still  publish  ourselves ;  our  very  ailings 
herald  us  and  announce  wherein  we  are  warped  and 
crooked. 

But  these  indications  are  but  straws  which  reveal 
the  direction  of  the  prevailing  winds;  for  so  imper- 
manent are  we  in  these  our  growing  days  that  we 
would  seem  to  be  no  one  person,  but  one  today  and 

[72] 


CHARACTER  AND  ITS  EXPRESSION 

another  tomorrow,  and  the  body  a  receptacle  in 
which  to  exhibit  various  stages  of  growth.  Here  is 
an  epicure  turned  Stoic;  there  a  cynic  become  op- 
timist, a  materialist  transformed  and  spiritualized, 
a  roue  turned  parson, — one  man  of  many  minds  no 
less  than  many  men  of  many  minds.  We  disown 
that  man  we  were  ten  years  since;  we  marvel  at  the 
views  we  once  held  and  at  the  aspect  life  once  pre- 
sented. How  is  it  possible  we  thought  as  we  did  then  ? 
Then  we  would  have  asked  could  it  be  possible  for 
us  to  think  as  we  do  now.  Shifting!  Changing! 
Evolving!  Mists  taking  shape,  worlds  resolving 
themselves  out  of  the  nebulous  mass  of  undeveloped, 
misty,  vaporous  thought:  such  are  the  minds  of  men. 
How  long,  through  what  eons,  must  the  mass  con- 
tinue whirling  and  surging  before  it  takes  shape, 
before  it  becomes  a  sphere,  begins  to  cool,  to  assume 
an  identity  of  its  own  and  become  amenable  to 
higher  ends?  But  through  it  all  is  seen  the  hand 
at  the  potter's  wheel,  molding  and  shaping — a  man. 
We  are  wont  to  think  of  how  intimately  we  know 
our  friend  when  in  fact  we  know  him  hardly  at  all, 
nor  any  one — not  even  ourselves.  Character  we 
know  and  recognize  in  a  degree,  but  to  read  character 
out  and  out  is  to  perceive  but  a  dim  reflection  of  the 
Soul.  All  these  years  we  have  walked  and  talked  to- 
gether and  have  come  but  little  nearer  save  in  an 
outward  and  personal  sense.  The  son  is  an  enigma 
to  the  father  and  the  father  to  the  son;  husband  and 
wife,  brother  and  sister,  all  seemingly  unrelated  and 
unrevealed  one  to  the  other.  Our  friend  dwells  be- 
side us  a  perpetual  mystery,  and  we  never  fathom 
his  secret  nor  he  ours.  He  is  like  a  house  with  whose 

[73] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

exterior  we  are  familiar  but  whose  inmate  we  have 
never  seen.  Occasionally  a  light  has  flashed  from 
the  windows,  and  then  we  have  watched  and  it  has 
been  dark  for  days;  but  still  we  are  led  to  anticipate 
that  some  time  it  shall  be  brightly  and  continuously 
illumined.  On  rare  instances  sweet  melodies  have 
been  wafted  abroad  from  within  the  house;  again, 
there  have  been  long  periods  of  silence,  or  the  ears 
have  been  assailed  by  din  and  hubbub. 

It  requires  character  to  read  character.  Super- 
ficially we  are  all  things  to  all  men  despite  ourselves. 
One  considers  us  taciturn,  another  loquacious;  to 
some  we  have  seemed  clever  and  to  others  dull. 
Because  of  these  ideals  we  have  cherished,  one  calls 
us  visionary,  another,  wise  and  prophetic.  Every 
man  gages  us  by  himself.  A  rogue  believes  all  men 
are  rascals;  and  moral  weakness  excuses  mankind 
on  the  same  ground.  But  a  Parsifal  sees  no  rascality 
in  any  one,  for  the  pure  see  all  things  purely.  In  our 
own  eyes  we  are  every  one  a  chronometer  to  other 
men's  watches. 

The  boon  companion  of  youth  meets  us  in  middle 
age  and  we  are  as  far  apart  as  the  antipodes  and  no 
longer  have  any  common  ground  on  which  to  stand. 
We  may  never  expect  that  all  men  shall  call  us  good, 
for  some  will  persist  in  calling  us  villain,  and  the 
companions  of  our  weakness  will  disparage  our 
strength.  But  in  spite  of  what  we  may  appear  to  the 
world  we  are  yet  something  different.  Let  the  world 
vote  on  any  man  and  he  would  have  as  many  aspects 
as  there  were  votes  and  still  would  be  none  of  these 
but  something  more,  for  no  one  can  fully  take  our 
measure  but  must  use  what  measuring-stick  he  has. 

[74] 


CHARACTER  AND  ITS  EXPRESSION 

We  take  our  estimate  of  the  persons  of  history  from 
the  slim  evidence  of  their  biographies,  but  were  we 
to  have  talked  with  the  men  themselves  we  would 
have  received  a  different  impression,  and  could  we 
have  seen  the  secret  workings  of  the  mind,  a  different 
one  still.  A  man's  contemporaries  give  one  verdict 
and  posterity  another,  and  neither  is  complete.  To 
understand  greatness  we  must  be  great;  to  fully  com- 
prehend Shakespeare  we  must  possess  the  mind  of 
Shakespeare;  and  to  appreciate  the  motives  which 
prompt  a  thief,  it  is  doubtless  necessary  to  have  some- 
what of  the  thieving  propensity.  Every  quality  ap- 
peals to  its  prototype  within  us;  the  heroic  to  our 
heroism,  the  noble  to  our  nobleness,  the  base  to  our 
baseness. 

Who  is  competent  to  judge  Caesar  save  Caesar  him- 
self, and  he  is  unequal  to  the  task.  When  we  judge 
another  we  pass  judgment  upon  ourselves;  to  con- 
demn another  is  to  utter  our  own  condemnation.  We 
are  as  noble  today  as  our  ideals,  and  tomorrow  it 
may  be  we  shall  transcend  these;  we  are  as  great  as 
our  idea  of  God, — and  just  as  little.  We  are  judged 
of  no  one,  then,  save  the  truth,  and  though  we  are  not 
yet  able  to  affirm  the  sum  and  magnitude  of  our 
identity,  we  can  none  the  less  depose  as  to  that 
which  we  are  not.  We  are  not  this  weak  and  com- 
plaining person  nor  this  sick  and  repining  one  that 
we  may  seem  to  be;  not  this  vacillating,  indefinite, 
pusillanimous  creature,  nor  this  vain  and  boastful 
one,  nor  yet  this  narrow  and  self-centered  man. 
These  are  but  the  guises  our  thoughts  have  worn. 
But  as  immeasurable  freedom  exists,  then  are  we 
free;  as  virtue  exists,  so  do  we  partake  of  it;  as  love 

[75] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

exists,  so  are  we  of  it.  Whatever  is,  of  that  we  par- 
take; whatever  is  seeming  we  but  temporarily  reflect. 
It  is  given  us  to  prove  what  we  are,  and  character  is 
the  present  measure  of  our  soul-realization.  It  is 
the  little  leaven  working  in  this  batch  of  dough,  and 
shall  after  a  time  leaven  the  whole  mass.  It  is  an 
aura  that  precedes  us  and  is  felt  rather  than  reasoned 
about;  it  is  a  nimbus  that  makes  our  presence  ra- 
diant. And  yet  my  character  is  not  I  but  only  the 
mark  of  my  present  recognition  of  my  Self, — the 
forerunner  of  my  greatness.  We  shall  put  the  mark 
higher  presently  and  give  greater  token  of  the  hidden 
store.  Character  admonishes  us  that  we  are  ap- 
proaching the  Soul,  as  the  green  branches  floating 
on  the  water  were  evidence  to  Columbus  that  he  was 
nearing  land — the  undiscovered  country.  So  across 
the  sea  of  our  separation  do  we  waft  these  green 
tokens  one  to  another. 

Who  shall  estimate  the  value  of  that  character 
we  have!  To  be  a  friend  to  oneself  is  to  be  in  har- 
mony with  the  spirit  of  truth  and  to  perceive  an 
infinite  friendliness;  but  be  your  own  enemy,  and 
where  shall  you  find  any  friend?  We  stand  or  fall 
by  ourselves.  In  the  emergency  only  that  measure 
of  inner  force  we  possess  shall  avail;  then  it  is  that 
every  outward  support  would  seem  to  slip  away  and 
we  are  left  alone, — so  much  reliance,  such  a  degree 
of  faith,  so  great  a  realization  of  the  good  that  lies 
in  everything,  with  which  to  confront  the  spedter  that 
has  appeared.  Our  true  thoughts  our  good  angels 
are  and  shall  come  forth  majestically  and  sustain  us. 

Society  ranks  men  according  to  their  years,  as- 
suming they  should  be  so  wise  or  foolish  at  thirty, 

[76] 


CHARACTER  AND  ITS  EXPRESSION 

and  so  much  the  wiser  at  fifty.  But  age  as  a  measure 
of  wisdom  is  far  from  keeping  pace  with  the  years, 
and  there  may  glance  from  the  eye  of  a  babe  that 
which  shall  no  more  be  seen  until  the  call  to  depart 
has  clarified  the  vision.  There  is  little  connection 
between  the  span  of  years  and  the  true  age  of  man. 
We  are  old  with  reference  to  our  understanding  and 
not  according  to  our  years,  and  a  cynic  of  seventy 
reveals  to  what  little  purpose  the  summers  and 
winters  may  come  and  go.  Some  men  are  born  old 
and  others  trundle  hoops  to  the  end  of  their  days. 
Gray  beards  are  wagging  in  the  nursery  of  the  world, 
while  children  sit  in  the  company  of  the  wise;  so 
little  is  worldly  wisdom  commensurate  with  under- 
standing; so  often  does  experience  signify  familiarity 
with  mistakes,  so  frequently  are  white  hairs  the 
truce  flag  of  the  misspent  years.  Thought  matures 
and  judgment  ripens  through  living  deeply  rather 
than  by  living  long.  How  do  the  stagnant  years 
creep  on  apace,  but  there  are  moments  that  come 
as  the  light-winged  messenger  of  the  gods,  swift- 
flying  to  the  heart — an  impulse  divine! 

As  to  self-made  men,  where  is  there  a  man  who  is 
not  self-made  if  made  at  all  ?  Every  man  makes  or 
unmakes  himself.  To  throw  advantages  in  his  way 
unmakes  him  who  is  not  ready  to  profit  by  them; 
but  the  more  obstacles  he  overcomes  of  himself  the 
more  does  he  make  of  himself.  As  though  money 
made  a  man, — a  man  of  snow  indeed!  It  takes 
character  to  make  a  man,  and  where  shall  we  find 
character,  or  where  shall  we  buy  it?  What  if  we 
have  not  inherited  the  bluest  blood?  To  persist  in 
doing  good  is  to  become  ennobled;  and  it  is  better 

[77] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

to  be  the  founder  of  a  royal  line  than  the  degener- 
ate descendant  of  kings.  Our  family  dates  back  as 
far  as  the  oldest — even  to  the  ape — and  its  history  in 
common  with  that  of  all  families  is  better  unwritten. 

Floating,  not  drifting,  buoyed  up  by  the  water  of  life, 
carried  onward  by  the  stream  of  progress,  thus  have  we 
come.  Listening  to  the  murmuring  of  the  living  water, 
sometime  conscious  of  its  enfolding  touch — all  through 
the  night  we  floated;  in  the  darkness  of  the  night  we 
were  carried  over  the  rapids,  whirling,  twisting,  dash- 
ing,— through  the  eddies  and  the  whirlpools — still 
we  floated,  we  did  not  sink.  Now  we  move  out  into 
the  day,  and  the  night  is  left  behind;  so  tempestu- 
ous— yet  certain  is  the  evolution  of  character.  It  takes 
mind  to  make  a  man,  and  the  science  of  increasing 
the  mind,  of  pushing  on  day  by  day  beyond  the 
present  limit,  of  extending  the  mental  horizon  and 
acquiring  more  and  more  mind,  is  the  process  of 
becoming  self-made.  We  are  provided  with  plans 
for  a  noble  structure  and  left  to  execute  them  at  our 
own  sweet  will.  The  wise  observe  us  narrowly 
whether  our  success  be  real  or  a  show  merely,  and 
if  with  riches,  position,  fame,  we  have  acquired  not 
understanding  and  are  still  unstable  and  discontent, 
we  but  add  to  the  sum  of  human  negation. 

Character  enjoins  independence  of  thought  and 
action;  it  is  never  deceived  by  numbers — is  never 
a  time  server.  So  does  it  entail  non-conformity, 
and  while  deferred  to  in  the  abstract  is  misunder- 
stood in  the  particular.  When  we  start  to  think  for 
ourselves  the  impulse  carries  us  on  a  tangent.  Pres- 
ently we  find  it  is  not  good  to  go  so  alone,  and  we 
fall  into  a  new  orbit  about  humanity  as  a  center — 

[78] 


CHARACTER  AND  ITS  EXPRESSION 

but  an  orbit  without,  and  vastly  greater  than  the  old 
one.  We  pose  with  ourselves  as  philosophers  only 
to  find  we  have  passed  in  the  world  for  cranks,  but 
the  Infinite  repays  whatever  faith  we  put  in  our- 
selves, and  we  have  but  to  declare  our  leadership  to 
have  men  fall  in  line.  We  shall  find  the  test  of  our 
convictions  among  those  who  have  no  conception 
of  our  ideals,  our  plan  of  life;  we  must  step  from 
the  assurance  of  privacy  into  the  arena  where  we 
are  regarded  with  wonder  and  curiosity,  and  still 
retain  our  dignity  and  composure.  We  shall  cherish 
still  our  vision  of  truth  though  men  call  it  vagary; 
still  repeat  our  axioms  though  they  are  scoffed  at  as 
theories,  for  by  their  fruits  shall  they  be  known. 


[79] 


VIII.   THE  BEAUTY  OF  POISE 

IN  MEETING  successfully  the  issues  of  life  as 
they  present  themselves,  it  is  incumbent  upon 
all  men  to  defer  to  the  principles  which  underlie 
their  being  and  the  spiritual  laws  which  con- 
stitute the  framework  of  the  great  structure  of  life, 
and  to  live  so  in  accordance  therewith  that  the  de- 
mands of  a  true  life  are  complied  with.    There  is  a 
penalty  attached  to  all  incompleteness;  ignore  the 
claim  of  the  Spirit  and  life  becomes  dry  and  barren; 
spurn  the  intellect  and  it  becomes  besotted;  con- 
demn the  body  and  the  consciousness  of  matter  be- 
comes morbid,  and  impedes  the  healthy  growth  of 
the  mind. 

Life  is  not  a  riddle  without  an  answer,  nor  is  it  a 
cipher  whose  key  is  lost.  The  elements  of  life  are 
writ  in  every  soul;  the  fundamental  laws  may  be  ap- 
prehended by  every  mind,  or  rather  by  that  state  of 
mind  attainable  to  mankind  through  growth  and 
enlightenment.  Given  these  elements  and  the  will 
to  parallel  the  direction  of  law  and  life  resolves  itself 
into  lines  which  are  grandly  simple.  We  shall  con- 
cern ourselves  with  neither  past  nor  future,  but 
we  are  required  to  do  justice  to  the  present.  The 
uncertainties  and  complexities  of  existence  are  not 
due  to  qualities  inherent  in  life,  but  to  the  error  of 
minds  yet  undeveloped,  which  heeding  not  the  laws 
of  spirit  are  lost  in  the  maze  of  the  pseudo-laws  of 
matter.  Man  is  primarily  spirit,  and  he  may  essay 

[80] 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  POISE 

his  departure  from  a  material  basis  only  at  the  ex- 
pense of  his  higher  faculties  and  to  the  detriment  of 
moral  stability  and  mental  serenity.  It  is  decreed 
we  shall  live  wisely  or  attest  the  discrepancy  in  mind 
and  body,  and  in  the  environment,  condition  and 
circumstance  which  we  thereby  attract;  and  that 
attestation  is  made  sadly  enough  by  the  hosts  of  the 
criminals  and  the  insane,  by  every  form  of  mental 
aberration  and  disease,  by  all  intemperance  and 
excess,  and  by  all  inability  to  cope  with  the  exigen- 
cies of  daily  life  and  retain  the  sweetness  and  serenity 
of  a  normal  existence. 

Poise  is  a  perception  of  what  is  real  and  what 
unreal;  it  is  breadth  and  scope  and  a  due  regard 
for  all  right  aspecls  of  life.  We  shall  give  and  re- 
ceive, both  hear  and  speak,  think  and  acl;;  we  shall 
court  the  inspiration  of  solitude  no  less  than  the 
invigoration  of  society.  It  supplies  a  compensating 
quality  to  genius  that  shall  prevent  that  too  great 
energy  in  one  direction  which  results  in  general  un- 
fitness;  working  always  toward  general  efficiency  it 
takes  genius  as  the  nucleus  around  which  to  build  a 
symmetrical  character.  It  is  in  no  sense  physical 
and  temperamental  but  rather  intuitive  and  percep- 
tive; it  is  a  spiritual  attribute  arising  from  the  recog- 
nition of  inner  forces, — a  self-trust  based  on  self- 
knowledge,  which  illumines  the  understanding  and 
gives  to  its  possessor  that  grasp  of  life  which  marks 
him  always  a  center  around  which  lesser  minds  shall 
gravitate.  And  it  proclaims  itself  in  that  nice  ad- 
justment of  the  mental  machinery  that  eliminates 
friction,  in  that  breadth  of  intellect  that  gives  a  just 
appreciation  of  reason  and  imagination,  of  theory 

[81] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

and  practice, — a  robust  faith  in  possibility  as  well 
as  a  calm  judgment  of  fact;  in  that  belief  in  the  good 
heart  of  mankind  that  makes  one  tolerant  and  kind, 
that  perception  of  the  Soul  within  all  men  that  makes 
one  hopeful  and  serene;  and  by  that  generalship  of  the 
forces  within  that  admits  of  no  surprises  from  with- 
out. To  the  poised  mind  there  are  no  happenings. 

He  who  has  found  the  Soul  has  found  God.  Thence- 
forth he  builds  on  the  rock  of  truth  and  no  gale  shall 
overthrow  his  house.  He  looks  from  within  outward, 
from  cause  to  effect;  is  not  disturbed  by  the  passing 
show  but  views  it  calmly  from  the  vantage-ground 
of  being.  He  sees  in  phenomena  but  the  fleeting 
shadows  of  the  mind,  and  devoted  to  truth  and  the 
substance  of  things  is  not  deeply  concerned  with  the 
shadow. 

Being  implies  love  and  truth  and  joy;  it  implies 
unity  and  is  the  refutation  of  duality,  of  evil  and 
death.  Spirit  is  the  essence  of  every  individual  life. 
It  stands  back  of  every  mind,  and  would  speak 
through  all  men — in  harmony  and  melody,  in  poetry 
and  prose,  in  marble  and  bronze,  and  in  iron  and 
steel.  Poetry,  art,  music, — and  the  beautiful  which 
is  all  of  these, — are  not  ends  in  themselves  but  are 
phases  of  being,  and  every  mind  that  lies  open  to 
the  influx  of  the  divine  mind  shall  show  forth  these 
things;  shall  reflect  the  glory  of  God  in  harmony,  in 
rhythm  and  in  color.  It  shall  attest  its  allegiance 
to  divine  law  in  spiritual  insight  which  is  wisdom, 
in  mental  equilibrium  which  is  sanity,  in  bodily 
poise  which  is  health. 

Poise  implies  self-reliance,  and  the  true  self- 
reliance  is  a  reliance  upon  the  divinity  within.  In 

[82] 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  POISE 

our  zeal  for  truth  we  run  hither  and  thither — must 
listen  to  the  exponent  of  every  new  creed,  read 
every  new  book,  and  look  here  and  there  and 
everywhere  for  that  which  lies  within  our  own 
selves.  But  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  within,  not 
without;  never  for  us  in  another's  mind,  never 
to  be  seen  through  another's  vision.  The  utmost 
that  sage  or  seer  can  do  is  to  lead  us  to  ourselves; 
to  be  the  clear  pool  wherein  we  shall  behold  our  own 
true  image,  that  seeing  we  may  go  on  our  way  re- 
joicing, henceforth  to  see  with  our  own  eyes  and  to 
walk  with  our  own  feet.  We  reverence  the  percep- 
tion of  such  minds  as  Plato's  and  Emerson's,  but 
fail  to  perceive  that  their  greatness  lay,  not  in  heed- 
ing what  other  men  said,  but  in  giving  ear  to  the 
oracle  within  themselves.  They  looked  within;  we 
gape  at  the  emptiness  without.  They  are  lenses 
which  reveal  to  us  the  suns  and  systems  of  our 
being;  and  this  because  they  but  focus  the  rays  to 
which  they  give  free  passage.  Witness,  then,  the 
lesson  of  every  life  truly  great, — it  is  the  Spirit  which 
availeth,  and  its  communications  are  sufficient  unto 
every  soul.  We  may  not  measure  our  growth  by 
the  theories  and  opinions  to  which  we  assent,  but  by 
the  realization  of  God  within  us. 

And  so  it  is  with  books.  We  stand  like  instru- 
ments, awaiting  the  right  touch  and  ready  to  respond 
in  the  majesty  of  harmony  to  the  master  hand.  We 
are  the  sensitive  strings  that  shall  resound  joyously 
in  myriad  overtones  to  the  dominant  chord  of  a  true 
and  ringing  thought.  This  is  the  value  of  a  book, 
that  its  thought  shall  make  us  vibrate;  and  not  to 
read  is  to  become  unresponsive  like  a  neglected 

[83] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

instrument — to  lose  the  feeling  and  sympathetic  qual- 
ity of  tone.  Such  is  the  purpose  of  reading,  to  strike 
a  true  note,  that  the  overtones  shall  respond,  and 
within  us  may  resound  a  higher  octave  than  ever 
before,  perchance  a  deeper  one;  the  spiritual  range  is 
extended,  the  gamut  of  heart  and  intellect  increased, 
and  impelled  to  search  the  deeps  within;  new  visions 
of  truth  and  beauty  arise  before  us,  and  life  assumes 
noble  and  majestic  proportions ;  we  are  in  touch  with 
the  One  Mind,  and  we  too  shall  utter  truths. 

That  which  is  true  of  books  is  true  of  all  educa- 
tion, which  should  aim  to  lead  out  rather  than  to 
pour  in, — to  unfold  the  possibilities  of  the  mind,  to 
develop  capacity  to  act,  to  work,  and  to  think  orig- 
inally. To  this  end,  and  as  a  means  only,  the  study 
of  another's  thought  serves  as  a  discipline,  a  training, 
a  suggestion — it  may  be  an  incentive  and  an  inspira- 
tion; as  a  means  it  is  a  stepping-stone  to  self-develop- 
ment, but  considered  as  an  end  it  proves  a  stumbling- 
block  to  original  thought.  And  hence  the  not  rare 
anomaly  of  men  of  much  learning  and  but  little 
wisdom,  and  of  unlettered  men  of  profound  insight; 
of  polished  men  of  shallow  views,  and  of  men  of 
rough  exterior  and  deep,  rugged  thoughts.  Life  is  a 
school  of  self-development  where  progress  is  pro- 
portionate to  the  tithe  paid  in  thought  or  deed  to 
the  general  good.  Genius  is  the  evidence  of  true 
education  in  some  direction,  and  always  creates  and 
gives  of  itself.  Pseudo-education  takes  in  much  and 
contributes  little,  like  those  Nevada  lakes  which  per- 
petually absorb,  but  from  which  no  cooling  stream 
ever  flows  to  refresh  the  parched  and  arid  land. 

We  yet  live  in  a  somewhat  scholastic  age.    Alma 

[84] 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  POISE 

Mater  lays  her  injunction  upon  every  little  mind, 
that  it  shall  not  deviate  from  the  course  she  has 
prescribed,  nor  depart  from  the  traditions  and  super- 
stitions of  the  institution.  She  is  under  that  fatality 
which  inheres  in  conservatism  of  conserving  error 
as  well  as  truth;  and  she  threatens  loss  of  caste  to 
every  true  Liberal.  She  demands  of  the  physician 
that  he  wear  the  badge  of  some  school  of  medicine 
and  close  his  ears  to  all  innovation ;  of  the  clergyman 
that  he  renounce  freedom  of  thought  and  speak  in 
accordance  with  specific  creed  and  dogma;  and  she 
places  her  restriction  upon  the  scholar  that  deference 
to  literary  form  and  style  shall  blind  him  to  the  ex- 
pression of  truth  in  homely  garb,  and  upon  the 
scientist  that  the  tyrant  intellect  should  mask  the 
heart  of  the  man. 

It  is  an  indication  of  true  education  to  have  re- 
nounced allegiance  to  the  institution  and  the  servile 
deference  to  the  authority  of  men  and  names;  it  is 
another  to  have  outgrown  prejudice  and  to  accord 
a  welcome  to  truth  wherever  it  may  be  found,  and 
it  is  significant  of  much  that  passes  for  education 
that  the  awakened  mind  must  set  itself  industriously 
to  unlearn,  the  once  prized  knowledge  of  the  world. 
Self-unfoldment  is  the  path  to  wisdom  and  the  des- 
tined way  of  human  life;  all  other  paths  are  nuga- 
tory and  fraught  with  obstruction,  this  only  lies  free 
and  open  to  the  mind.  We  live  sanely  or  insanely, 
wisely  or  unwisely;  there  is  no  choice  but  wisdom, 
there  is  no  choice  but  the  Spirit;  and  a  true  ideal,  a 
right  direction,  a  sincerity  of  purpose  are  essential 
to  that  equipoise  which  is  an  honor  to  men  and  the 
token  of  their  divine  descent. 

[85] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

The  human  mind  is  no  constant  and  fixed  quan- 
tity, but  a  variable,  the  resultant  of  lines  of  thought, 
and  a  right  mental  economy  permits  no  disorganizing 
process  of  thought  but  such  only  as  are  positive,  up- 
building and  beneficent.  Sense  perversion  leads  to 
mental  disintegration.  The  senses  are  the  anomalous 
highways  that  lead  forward  or  backward  in  obedience 
to  the  will,  and  an  adequate  insight  into  their  nature 
and  functions  is  the  first  step  toward  a  freedom  which 
is  more  than  nominal.  It  is  a  precept  of  spiritual 
prudence  that  the  carnal  mind  leads  to  dissolution, 
that  the  spiritual  mind  ever  brings  peace.  Starve 
the  higher  nature,  and  the  lower  makes  its  insidious 
demands  in  the  vain  hope  of  stilling  the  inner  longing 
and  unrest. 

We  live  every  man  at  the  center  of  a  hollow  sphere 
wherein  our  thoughts  are  echoed  back  to  us, — an- 
tagonism for  antagonism,  indifference  for  indiffer- 
ence, good- will  for  good- will;  and  so  is  made  and 
unmade  what  we  term  environment,  which  is  the 
projection  of  the  mind, — for  man  orders  his  own 
environment  and  gives  to  his  world  its  apparent 
hue — daubs  it  black  or  paints  it  in  rose  color.  Well 
for  us  when  we  learn  to  apply  our  correction  to  the 
inner  condition  rather  than  the  outer  circumstance. 
Over  the  inner  world  we  have  control;  but  open  the 
door  to  one  annoyance  and  a  score  rush  in.  There 
is  a  category  of  grating  noises,  of  unsavory  smells, 
of  seeming  annoyances;  and  to  recognize  one  is  to 
accept  the  whole  family — and  the  most  distant  con- 
nections are  summoned  to  take  up  their  abode  with 
us. 

The  mind  that  has  not  found  its  center  is  liable 

[86] 


THE  BEAUTY  OF  POISE 

to  all  distraction;  but  the  wise  perceive  that  the  Soul 
is  the  substance,  and  things  are  naught  in  themselves. 
We  are  asleep  to  that  which  most  concerns  us  and 
awake  to  all  that  distracts;  we  hear  the  huckster  in 
the  street  and  are  deaf  to  the  intoning  organ  within 
the  temple.  Among  the  carvings  on  the  shrines  of 
the  Shoguns  is  one  representing  three  monkeys,  one 
covering  his  eyes,  another  his  ears  and  a  third  his 
mouth;  and  they  point  a  maxim  of  Shinto  ethics. 
Close  the  ears  and  eyes  to  what  is  not  good  to  hear 
and  see;  we  shall  choose  food  for  the  mind  no  less 
than  for  the  stomach;  we  shall  reject  unwholesome 
sights  and  sounds,  and  thoughts,  as  we  would  un- 
savory dishes. 

The  majestic  base  upon  which  are  erected  the 
loftiest  characters  is  that  spiritual  poise  which  arises 
from  the  inner  controlling  conviction  that  love  is  the 
finest  fruit  of  life  as  well  as  its  governing  principle; 
that  it  is  the  essence  of  all  nobleness,  all  majesty,  all 
sublimity  whatsoever;  that  it  is  the  only  possible 
point  from  which  to  project  real  character  and  aims, 
the  only  lasting  foundation  upon  which  to  build  a 
true  civilization  and  a  true  society.  Where  this  con- 
viction  becomes  supreme  it  points  the  goal  of  human 
attainment  in  the  evolution  from  egotism  to  altru- 
ism, and  marks  the  ground  where  the  human  shall 
become  merged  in  the  Divine.  It  leads  to  that  per- 
sonal abnegation  from  whence  springs  the  supreme 
assertion  of  the  individual,  wherein  so  tranquil,  so 
divinely  assured  is  the  man  that  he  rests  invulnerable 
to  all  influences  that  savor  not  of  love.  In  that  per- 
fect balance  of  the  love  and  the  understanding  is 
preserved  the  integrity  to  truth  in  the  face  of  all 

[87] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

error;  loyalty  to  all  that  is  generous  and  magnanimous 
in  spite  of  what  is  paltry  and  ignoble,  for  love  is  the 
one  defense  against  all  that  aims  at  man's  integrity 
to  himself.  It  is  never  off  its  guard,  it  is  never  be- 
trayed to  self-interest,  it  never  descends  to  retalia- 
tion; and  this  is  its  concern — that  it  shall  deal  in 
equity  and  kindness  with  all  men  irrespective  of  the 
conduct  of  others,  deeming  it  sufficient  to  be  true  to 
itself.  Whatsoever  it  receives,  counterfeit,  copper, 
or  silver, — it  pays  always  in  gold. 

Self-knowledge,  then,  is  the  secret  of  poise, — self- 
knowledge  and  that  perception  of  divine  order  that 
insures  faith  in  the  guidance  of  the  Spirit.  Behold 
now  the  poised  mind, — the  man  stands  like  Ajax  and 
shall  defy  the  lightning.  The  goods  of  the  world 
come  and  go  and  are  to  him  as  a  summer  shower; 
he  does  not  pine  nor  is  he  elated;  he  is  not  shamed 
by  the  nobly  spreading  tree  that  welcomes  its  leaves 
to  see  them  fall  in  due  season  without  repining — 
resting  assured  in  the  advent  of  a  new  spring.  Thus 
with  senses  stilled  and  mind  unlifted  he  stands 
already  on  the  threshold  and  feels  the  pulsation  of 
the  Great  Heart  within  him, — his  presence  a  bene- 
diction. 


[88] 


IX.   ETHICAL  RELATIONS 

THE  SCIENCE  of  living  is  the  knowledge 
of  relationship,  of  man  to  God,  and  this 
is  religion  and  metaphysics;  of  man  to  man, 
and  this  is  ethics.    And  one  is  spiritual  no 
less  than  the  other;  for  man  to  man,  what  is  that 
but  spirit  to  spirit  ?    There  is,  then,  a  transcendental 
side  of  ethics — an  unwritten  law,  above  and  beyond 
the  code,  that  a(5ls  over  our  heads:  a  spirit  that  mil- 
itates for  or  against  our  a<5l  though  that  be  in  accord 
with  the  accepted  letter  of  moral  science.     Unless 
we  a6l  with  the  knowledge  and  agreement  of  this, 
our  ethical  relations  are  not  eminently  practical  but 
still  speculative;  for  whatsoever  is  done  to  the  letter 
alone  is  as  often  defeated  by  the  spirit  of  our  acl;. 

Since  weak  minds  are  receptive  to  whatever  nega- 
tive suggestions  they  may  receive,  what  if  the  pub- 
lished account  of  crime,  while  upholding  the  letter, 
prove  to  be  a  sin  against  the  spirit  of  ethics  ?  What 
if  nostrum  advertisements  were  designed  to  beget 
in  the  foolish  mind  the  very  symptoms  for  which 
they  announce  a  cure  ?  What  if  the  slaughter-house 
were  a  crime  against  ethics, — and  the  arsenal  and 
the  powder  factory;  and  peace  commissions,  and 
vegetarian  tendencies  and  the  protection  of  birds, 
all  in  the  nature  of  an  awakening  and  a  broader  per- 
ception of  ethics  ? 

There  is  a  science  of  everydayness  and  common- 
placeness  as  well  as  of  great  ends;  and  it  is  in  little 

[89] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

things  that  any  disparity  between  the  letter  and  the 
spirit  of  our  ethics  is  the  sooner  revealed.  Hos- 
pitality must  be  complete  or  it  misses  the  mark; 
hospitality  of  ideas  and  of  good-will, — no  less  than 
of  wines  and  viands.  If  our  hostess  be  glum  her 
culinary  efforts  are  wasted.  Whatever  is  done 
at  the  expense  of  harmonious  relationship  defeats 
its  own  ends  and  is  poor  economy.  Household 
economics  may  not  stop  short  at  the  consideration 
of  things,  but  must  include  mental  states,  and  pro- 
vide against  mental  wear  and  tear.  Good  fare  will 
never  offset  a  lack  of  amiability  and  bonhomie.  It 
is  not  enough  to  provide  shelter  and  food;  we  owe 
it  as  well  to  bring  peace  and  cheerfulness.  Better 
a  little  dust  and  quietness  than  overmuch  house- 
cleaning  and  a  loss  of  poise;  better  a  crust  and  sweet- 
ness of  mind;  yes,  better  far  a  dinner  of  herbs 
where  love  is. 

Our  relations  with  men  are  psychic  and  occult. 
It  is  as  useless  to  say  one  thing  and  mean  another 
as  it  is  foolish  to  outwardly  smile  while  we  inwardly 
frown.  The  outward  bearing  is  often  hypocritical; 
not  so  with  the  psychic  relation,  which  is  always 
candid.  When  we  talk  behind  the  back  we  com- 
municate more  than  we  mean  to.  If  we  do  not  favor 
a  man  he  will  find  it  out  despite  any  protestations 
to  the  contrary.  The  mental  attitude  prevails  and 
is  swifter  and  surer  than  speech.  Children  and  dogs 
read  our  attitude  before  we  have  spoken.  A  dog  is 
never  deceived  into  thinking  we  are  friendly  to  him. 
Where  men  are  wise  enough  to  observe  this  attitude 
and  to  let  the  outer  and  the  inner  correspond,  they 
are  repaid  by  truer  relations  with  one  another.  But 

[90] 


ETHICAL  RELATIONS 

this  does  not  imply  the  expression  of  whatever  we 
may  feel;  it  means  the  cultivation  of  a  feeling  that  is 
worthy  of  expression.  We  are  not  to  cover  our 
antagonisms,  but  to  get  rid  of  them.  Antagonisms 
are  the  bane  of  society;  they  ramify  like  hidden  mines 
under  our  homes.  It  makes  little  difference  that  they 
are  not  expressed, — they  are  always  felt. 

To  be  happy  is  no  less  a  duty  to  be  performed 
than  an  ideal  to  be  obtained.  If  our  philosophy 
makes  us  pessimists,  if  our  religion  produces  mel-  i 
ancholy,  we  had  better  have  done  with  them  both,  \ 
for  true  religion  and  real  philosophy  produce  no  i 
such  bitter  fruit.  The  virtue  lies  not  so  much  in  1 
enduring,  but  in  enduring  cheerfully;  not  so  much 
in  work  done  or  obstacles  overcome,  but  rather  in 
the  having  done  this  while  retaining  still  the  bless- 
ings of  cheerfulness  and  equanimity.  The  presence 
of  a  cheerful  man  is  as  much  a  blessing  as  is  the 
sunshine.  Our  self-poise  is  not  yet  so  stable  but 
what  we  are  easily  disconcerted  by  angry  looks  and 
snappish  behavior;  and  the  provocation  is  strong  to 
stumble  over  other  people's  failings, — to  be  ruffled 
because  of  another's  brusqueness,  irritated  by 
another's  irritability.  The  burden  of  our  indebted- 
ness to  the  letter  of  civilization  is  great,  but  to  the 
spirit  thereof  it  is  very  little.  What  right  have  we 
to  present  a  sour  face  to  the  world?  Human  law 
can  make  no  provision  as  to  what  we  shall  think  of 
people;  but  divine  law  is  very  searching.  The  money 
obligation  is  but  a  tithe  of  the  real  indebtedness 
which  is  paid  not  by  the  sweat  of  the  brow  but  by 
the  goodness  of  the  heart  and  the  serenity  of  the 
mind.  Touch  life  with  the  wand  of  cheerfulness 

[91] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

and  the  dull  and  commonplace  become  instinct 
with  vitality  and  interest.  There  is  no  limit  to  the 
power  of  cheerfulness  in  reconstructing  and  smooth- 
ing the  path  of  every-day  life. 

From  the  home  as  a  center  emanate  those  in- 
fluences— be  they  small  or  great — that  make  for 
civilization;  and  the  ethics  of  family  life,  the  knowl- 
edge of  harmonious  relationship,  is  fundamental  in 
social  science.  Charity  begins  at  home;  charity  of 
speech,  charity  of  manner, — above  all,  charity  of 
thought.  And  these  all  take  rank  before  charity  of 
dollars.  Where  these  sweet  influences  arise  from 
the  hearth  and  pervade  the  home,  there  is  a  point  of 
contact  of  earth  and  heaven;  and  where  they  are 
wanting,  there  are  the  confines  of  hell. 

At  the  root  of  the  ethics  of  the  home  lie  the  rights 
of  the  unborn,  and  here  is  the  beginning  of  charity: 
charity  to  the  individual,  to  society,  and  to  the  race; 
charity  to  the  present  and  to  the  future, — yes,  great 
charity  to  posterity,  and  to  the  page  of  history.  The 
right  to  be  well-born  and  royally  welcomed,  to  be 
the  children  of  loving  union  and  some  degree  of 
spiritual  affinity,  to  be  the  children  of  high  purpose, 
of  balance,  and  sanity,  and  poise — this  is  the  de- 
mand of  the  coming  race  upon  a  sincere  charity 
the  world  over. 

To  us  comes  a  little  child,  arising  from  the  sanc- 
tity of  the  heart:  from  the  Invisible  wafted  to  the 
world  of  form, — a  soul  wrapped  in  the  body  of  a 
child.  We  the  magicians  have  summoned  the  Spirit 
of  Life,  and  it  is  here.  Where  was  emptiness, 
there  is  a  something  concrete — yet  inscrutable.  We 
have  assumed  the  prerogative  of  creator;  we  have 

[92] 


ETHICAL  RELATIONS 

commanded  the  forces  of  nature,  and  infinite  time 
and  infinite  space,  the  laws  of  the  universe — Titan 
and  Cyclops — obey  and  do  seem  to  wait  upon  us. 
The  fiat  has  gone  forth  that  a  soul  should  become 
incarnate,  and  the  heavens  have  opened  and  down 
through  the  royal  highway  it  has  come.  A  child  has 
come  among  us :  a  sprite,  an  elf,  a  bit  of  sunshine, — 
and  we  call  this  birth.  There  it  lies  fresh  from  the 
mother  world,  summoned  from  the  presence  of  the 
Supreme.  Spirit  of  the  Sublime,  whence  have  you 
come  and  whither  do  you  go;  and  who  are  we  who 
thus  enjoin  and  then  call  you  child?  Not  alone  to 
our  own  ends  do  we  marry  and  are  given  in  mar- 
riage. We  are  the  factotums  of  a  mighty  purpose 
which  surges  into  and  through  us,  carrying  us  oif 
our  feet, — impelling  us  irresistibly:  actors  in  the 
sacred  drama  of  life, — going  through  the  parts  as- 
signed but  knowing  not  the  purpose  of  it  all.  To 
us  it  is  left  to  give  an  impress  to  the  mind;  of  us  is 
demanded  the  inheritance  of  sanity  and  love  that 
is  to  be  a  factor  in  society,  in  history,  in  the  sum  of 
human  happiness.  But  the  Soul  acknowledges  a 
higher  motherhood  and  fatherhood  than  ours, — 
tarries  with  us  and  then  passes  on  its  stately  way. 

Because  we  love  wife  or  child  let  us  not  hold  them 
so  close  they  are  stifled.  A  complete  love  is  without 
fear,  and  the  perfect  love  for  the  creature  implies  a 
corresponding  love  for  the  Creator.  Whenever  we 
show  fearfulness  we  betray  a  lack  of  trust;  and  to 
that  extent  is  our  love  imperfect — to  that  degree  is 
it  less  than  love.  We  may  never  love  the  creature 
more  than  the  Creator;  we  may  never  reckon  with- 
out God,  try  how  we  will.  Whenever  it  is  attempted, 

[93] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

parental  love  degenerates  into  anxiety, — and  a  con- 
suming fear  defeats  the  ends  of  love. 

Our  child  is  first  God's  child;  we  are  but  the 
foster-parents.  Permit  Him,  then,  to  participate  in 
the  guidance  of  His  child.  Why  should  we  assume 
the  entire  responsibility  who  are  manifestly  unfit? 
If  we  look  to  it  that  our  example  be  worthy,  God 
will  undertake  that  the  child  shall  profit  by  it.  There 
are  families  in  which  the  children  seem  mere  faded 
negatives  of  the  grown  folks,  of  such  undue  vigilance 
are  they  the  victims.  The  individuality  of  the  young 
people  is  suppressed;  what  wonder  the  boys  kick 
over  the  traces,  and  the  girls  are  not  happy  at  home. 
"Let  me  alone,"  is  the  cry  of  many  a  suppressed 
spirit  chafing  under  this  foolish  vigilance.  When 
we  learn  the  efficacy  of  suggestion  we  need  not  de- 
pend on  the  rod  of  coercion;  when  we  perceive  the 
power  of  example  we  shall  deliver  no  homilies  on 
what  not  to  do.  Children  are  reflectors  for  parental 
thought,  and  elder  discords  sink  deep  in  little  minds; 
let  us  be  chary  of  our  reproofs,  then,  for  the  spirit  of 
ethics  is  very  exacting. 

Nowhere  is  ta6l  more  necessary  nor  its  exercise 
more  difficult  than  in  the  family  and  among  inti- 
mates. Acquaintanceship  usually  provokes  us  to 
what  tact  we  have  at  our  command;  friendship  not 
infrequently  would  dispense  with  it;  kinship  usually 
ignores  it.  Ta6l  is  not  dissimulation  but  adroitness; 
a  judicious  consideration  of  personal  peculiarities 
whereby  the  individual  may  be  skilfully  led  out  and 
away  from  these, — where  bluntness  would  serve  to 
intensify  them.  Where  maladroitness  reproves  and 
preaches,  ta6l  diverts  and  suggests,  and  carries  the 

[94] 


ETHICAL  RELATIONS 

day.  As  the  recognition  of  individual  needs,  tact  be- 
comes the  instrument  of  education,  for  we  are  not 
to  pour  the  mind  of  childhood  into  set  forms  as  we 
would  empty  lead  into  bullet  molds,  but  to  discover 
the  true  bent  and  to  divert  and  encourage  it  in  that 
direction.  When  the  spirit  of  the  age  frowns  down 
the  individual,  genius  hides.  We  may  infer  such  a 
spirit  to  have  been  lacking  in  a  Golden  or  an  Au- 
gustan Age,  and  that  society  respected  the  desire 
for  original  effort,  as  now  it  applauds  successful 
results  but  discourages  the  apprenticeship. 

And  yet  do  we  owe  a  debt  to  the  seemingly  tact- 
less. There  are  men  whose  mission  lies  in  their 
very  idiosyncrasies;  they  put  their  friends  to  the 
test  as  to  whether  their  regard  be  sterling,  by  sub- 
jecting them  continually  to  the  ordeal  of  a  trying 
egotism.  They  are  forever  laying  little  traps  for  us, 
and  if  our  philosophy  is  not  real  we  are  constantly 
getting  entangled  and  receiving  little  wounds  and 
scratches  to  our  feelings, — that  is,  our  egotism.  They 
provoke  us  to  being  broad  to  compensate  for  their 
narrowness;  to  being  liberal  to  offset  their  intoler- 
ance. Have  we  a  point  of  pride,  it  is  become  in  their 
hands  a  whip  with  which  to  lash  us.  Are  we  over- 
sensitive, they  ride  rough  shod  over  us  until  we  are 
forced  to  overcome  it.  Are  we  indifferent  or  lacka- 
daisical, have  we  a  peculiarity, — they  stumble  over 
it  until  the  obstruction  is  removed.  They  are  emery 
to  our  roughness  and  our  rustiness;  under  their 
merciless  polishing  we  begin  to  shine.  These  men 
are  to  us  at  first  like  chestnut  burrs, — we  never 
touch  them  without  pricking  the  fingers.  But  no 
sincere  person  ever  persisted  in  his  intercourse  with 

[95] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

such  a  one  without  coming  at  length  to  acknowledge 
the  benefit  derived  in  patience  and  tolerance,  and 
feeling  grateful  to  his  erstwhile  tormentor. 

It  is  the  blessing  of  society  that  it  gives  us  the 
necessary  polishing  and  removes  the  unseemly  and 
jagged  edges  and  protuberances.  It  is  the  bane  of 
too  much  society  that  it  finally  polishes  its  members 
all  down  to  the  same  measure  until  they  have  no 
more  apparent  individuality  than  so  many  bullets, 
or  the  sands  on  the  shore.  The  moral  is :  Do  not  ex- 
pose yourself  too  constantly  to  the  destructive 
machine.  Relinquish  your  rough  edges  but  with- 
draw before  your  very  identity  has  been  smoothed 
away. 

It  never  pays  to  be  frivolous;  we  must  play  games 
in  earnest,  laugh  in  earnest,  make  merry  in  earnest. 
We  do  well  that  alone  which  we  do  with  the  whole 
heart.  To  act  with  any  lesser  purpose  involves  a 
certain  dissipation.  It  is  not  the  doing  of  a  thing 
nor  the  doing  of  nothing  that  counts,  so  much  as  it 
is  the  way  in  which  it  is  done.  To  be  able  at  times 
to  do  nothing,  and  to  do  it  in  earnest,  implies  a  cer- 
tain high  state  of  concentration  and  fixity  of  purpose. 
The  best  workmen  have  learned  the  value  of  abso- 
lute repose. 

Action!  and  forever  action!  Shall  we  be  surfeited 
with  action  while  we  perish  for  want  of  thought? 
Acts  engender  consequences  which  stream  from  them 
like  the  tails  of  comets.  Read  the  account  of  a  day's 
crimes  and  misdoings  and  it  would  seem  that  men 
were  best  off  asleep.  How  much  is  learned  that 
must  be  unlearned;  how  much  builded  that  must 
come  down, — done  that  must  be  undone!  Some 

[96] 


ETHICAL  RELATIONS 

would  have  it  that  if  we  are  not  continually  in  action 
we  are  wasting  time;  but  let  them  be  grateful  to  the 
hours  they  spend  in  sleep,  for  then  at  least  they  are 
not  sowing  the  wind, — for  where  is  the  man  who 
can  yet  preserve  his  integrity  to  God  and  to  the  Soul 
throughout  one  entire  day?  What  are  troubles  and 
vicissitudes  but  the  consequences  of  former  indiscre- 
tions; and  the  present  the  outcome  of  the  past,  and 
today  the  sum  of  all  days  which  have  been.  What 
can  any  man  receive  that  he  does  not  deserve? 
Shall  we  accuse  the  divine  order, — jwho  are  not  yet 
able  to  perceive  the  spirit  of  ethics?  Let  us  lay 
aside  this  child's  play  of  three-score  years  and  ten, 
and  deal  with  life.  Until  the  continuity  of  life  has 
become  to  us  axiomatic  we  are  still  within  the  grave. 
Inaction,  then,  were  better  than  false  action.  Un- 
less we  can  do  something  to  the  purpose  let  us  sit 
and  fold  the  hands,  and  not  mar  the  day.  We  must 
finally  admit  that  our  activity,  like  force  itself,  is 
efficient  in  proportion  as  it  is  subtle  and  refined. 
The  less  the  smoke  the  hotter  the  blaze.  The  noise 
and  bustle  of  inefficient  action  is  as  the  smoke  of  a 
poor  fire.  Silence  is  the  womb  of  great  action;  and 
it  is  in  the  silence  that  we  live  deeply,  think  truly, 
act  divinely.  Hence  be  not  misled  by  the  semblance 
of  action  nor  by  the  appearance  of  inaction;  but 
consider  the  strength  that  lies  in  calmness,  the 
might  of  self-control,  the  vast  psychic  forces  which 
operate  in  silence. 


[97] 


X.   WEALTH 

THERE  are  two  standards  of  value,  the  one 
real  and  the  other  fictitious,  one  permanent 
and  the  other  shifting.    It  is  a  propensity 
of  the  human  mind  to  forego  the  idea  and 
deal  with  the  symbol,  and  as  money  is  the  symbol  of 
wealth,  to  invest  the  material  world,  organic  and 
inorganic,  with  a  material  value,  and  to  write  dol- 
lars and  cents  over  the  face  of  God's  fair  earth;  and 
so  it  comes  that  society  is  well  nigh  submerged   in 
the  stream  of  opulence  that  flows  from  the  human 
mind,  that  symbolic  stream  which  quenches  not  the 
inner  thirst,  that  affords  "not  any  drop  to  drink." 

There  is  perhaps  no  subject  which  labors  under  a 
more  general  misapprehension  than  that  of  wealth. 
While  economists  have  dimly  predicated  an  inward 
as  well  as  an  outward  wealth,  they  have  preferred  to 
treat  it  directly  as  that  which  has  an  exchange  value 
and  to  class  it  as  a  species  of  utility,  but  of  a  base 
order,  having  reference  only  to  the  material  welfare 
of  man.  And  herein  lies  the  fallacy  of  the  worldly 
concept  of  life,  that  it  would  deal  with  material 
issues  as  separate  from  spiritual,  whereas  in  fact  the 
material  is  but  the  reflex  of  the  spiritual,  and  can  no 
more  be  rightly  considered  as  a  separate  entity  than 
a  corpse  may  be  regarded  as  a  man;  and  though 
political  economy  may  admit  that  man  has  a  soul, 
it  nevertheless  does  not  recognize  it  as  an  asset. 
It  is  a  shallow  sophism  that  money  will  buy 

[98] 


WEALTH 

everything;  it  will  buy  everything  but  happiness, 
everything  but  peace,  everything  but  truth,  wisdom, 
love.  It  will  buy  servile  allegiance  but  not  respect;  it 
will  buy  a  book  but  not  the  ability  to  read  it;  it  will 
buy  a  coronet  but  not  nobility  of  character.  In  short, 
it  will  buy  the  symbols  but  not  the  substance  of  things. 

To  inherit  money  may  or  may  not  prove  beneficial ; 
but  to  inherit  the  conviction  that  money  constitutes 
wealth  is  always  a  calamity.  There  is  this  difference, 
moreover,  between  earning  money  and  acquiring  it, 
that  the  one  contributes  to  character  and  the  other 
requires  character  to  withstand  it.  Two  payments 
are  made  for  all  honest  work;  the  first  is  in  money 
and  is  counted,  the  second  is  in  patience,  in  dex- 
terity, in  tact,  experience  and  courage,  and  is  not 
counted. 

An  adequate  cultivation  of  the  mind  renders  much 
money  superfluous;  a  real  contentment  needs  but 
few  dollars.  We  have  forsaken  Virgil  and  Horace 
for  the  applied  sciences,  but  the  classics  would,  none 
the  less,  augment  the  wealth  of  imagery  and  of 
thought.  Culture  forever  protests  that  money  is  not 
wealth,  but  its  symbol,  merely;  that  "money  is  not 
required  to  buy  one  necessary  of  the  soul";  and  the 
spiritual  mind  exhorts  us  to  seek  first  the  kingdom 
of  God — to  work  for  that  in  life  that  shall  endure. 
It  is  not  to  the  Ricardos  nor  the  Adam  Smiths,  it  is 
not  to  political  but  rather  to  spiritual  economy  that 
we  shall  look  for  a  right  understanding  of  wealth. 

For  the  world's  view  of  wealth  readily  follows  its 
dogma  of  success.  Money  is  today  largely  the  meas- 
ure of  success — a  business  that  is  profitable;  a  pro- 
fession that  is  lucrative.  But  the  ample  perspective 

[99] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

of  history  reveals  success  to  lie  only  in  the  character 
of  a  work  and  thus  is  assigned  a  truer  value  to  a 
work  of  Phidias  or  an  ode  of  Pindar  than  to  con- 
temporary art  or  life.  Inventors  have  lived  in  gar- 
rets; there  are  monuments  of  literature  which 
brought  but  paltry  sums  to  their  authors;  prophets 
have  been  stoned.  Was  the  inventor  then  less  rich 
in  ideas;  was  the  author  less  wealthy  in  diction;  had 
the  prophet  any  the  less  an  ownership  in  truth?  It 
is  but  a  poor  standard  of  success  that  is  measured  by 
gold  and  silver;  a  noble  bearing,  a  lofty  brow,  a 
kindly  smile,  a  self-control,  a  healthy  body,  a  clear 
eye  bespeak  a  success  that  is  more  real.  The  only 
victory  worth  making  is  the  victory  over  one's  self; 
the  only  real  success  lies  in  the  development  of 
character  and  insight;  the  only  thing  worth  seeking 
is  the  Soul;  the  only  thing  worth  possessing  is  the 
truth;  the  only  thing  worth  living  for  is  love.  And 
this  is  the  greatest  success — to  have  ennobled  your 
environment,  to  have  done  good,  to  have  given  happi- 
ness, to  be  happy;  for  virtue  alone  wears  a  serene 
smile,  and  wisdom  only  is  truly  happy. 

It  shall  become  apparent  to  every  thoughtful  mind 
that  despite  the  fetishism  of  the  dollar,  it  is  not  money 
but  love  that  rules  the  world.  Prince  Sidartha  re- 
nounced a  throne,  and  in  the  garb  of  a  mendicant 
went  forth  to  enlighten  men  and  to  teach  the  supreme 
doctrine  of  love  and  of  renunciation.  Jesus,  in  the 
name  of  Love,  healed  the  sick,  raised  the  dead,  gave 
sight  to  the  blind,  and  his  life  was  a  giving  and  a 
doing  for  others;  a  torrent  of  beneficence  and  kindly 
deeds.  Yet,  He  who  is  called  the  Light  of  the  World 
was  a  penniless  wanderer  in  Palestine.  Think  you 

[100] 


WEALTH 

the  world  of  Annas  and  Caiaphas  esteemed  the  life 
of  this  man  a  successful  one?  Do  we  esteem  any 
one  successful  today  who  has  not  a  house  over  his 
head,  be  his  preaching  never  so  eloquent?  But 
these  lives  are  momentous  fadls  that  somehow  sub- 
vert all  our  standards  of  success.  And  though  in  the 
growth  of  civilization  the  examples  are  no  longer 
applicable  to  present  needs,  the  principles  and  ideas 
are  none  the  less  so, — a  facl;  to  which  the  world  offers 
tacit  recognition,  for  with  all  its  getting  and  all  its 
self-seeking  it  is  still  led  by  inspired  mendicants, 
whose  sole  possession  is  wisdom.  What  of  the 
Pharaohs,  the  Caesars,  the  kings — is  their  memory 
grateful  to  mankind?  What  of  the  great  names  of 
science — have  their  discoveries  on  the  whole  con- 
tributed to  make  life  happier  or  nobler?  How  is  it 
that  the  names  of  simple  men  outweigh  the  influence 
of  empires  and  of  dynasties  ? 

It  fatigues  to  be  .constantly  reminded  of  the  so- 
called  wealth  of  men — that  man  should  so  univer- 
sally be  judged  according  to  the  symbol.  Wealth  is 
capacity,  not  money;  the  capacity  to  love,  the  capacity 
to  appreciate  the  beautiful,  the  capacity — above  all — 
to  hear  and  apprehend  the  monitions  of  the  Spirit. 
He  who  possesses  the  symbol  merely,  not  knowing 
the  thing  symbolized,  is  often  the  poorest  of  men. 
It  is  said  the  inventor  is  always  poor;  so  he  may  be 
in  money,  but  so  is  Croesus  poor  in  invention.  Pov- 
erty is  relative.  He  who  is  rich  in  equipages  is  often 
poor  in  health — in  sinew  and  vigor  to  climb  the 
mountains.  Must  we  be  taught  that  there  is  no 
poverty  to  the  Soul  ?  We  have  wealth  to  the  extent 
that  we  apprehend  the  principles  of  being.  It  is  no 

[101] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

appraisal  of  a  man's  wealth,  indeed,  to  say  he  has 
certain  stocks  and  bonds,  for  every  man  owns  heaven 
and  hell. 

Wealth,  then,  is  capacity:  capacity  for  wisdom; 
capacity  for  doing  good;  capacity  for  entering  into 
the  lives  of  others.  Egotism  is  a  kind  of  pauperism; 
to  see  everything  always  from  a  personal  standpoint 
is  to  be  incarcerated  within  the  four  walls  of  a  self- 
made  prison  and  to  exclude  a  wealth  of  human  love 
and  sympathy.  Incapacity  to  grasp  the  true  mean- 
ing of  life;  incapacity  for  expressing  the  good  that  is 
in  us;  incapacity  for  recognizing  the  good  that  is  in 
others — such  is  poverty.  To  be  poor  in  love,  to  be 
poor  in  thought,  is  to  be  poor  indeed.  What  avails 
a  vast  estate  if  we  live  in  a  crack;  to  what  end  a 
private  observatory  if  we  dwell  in  the  cellar  of  our 
being;  of  what  use  broad  acres  to  a  narrow  mind  ? 

The  only  real  wealth  lies  within,  and  no  outer 
semblance  shall  gainsay  an  inner  poverty.  The 
richer  the  inner  life  the  greater  the  outer  simplicity. 
There  are  men  who  never  find  themselves  until  they 
lose  their  money;  there  are  beauties  that  never  be- 
come apparent  until  the  purse  is  empty.  When  we 
have  found  the  Soul,  what  can  be  added  to  or  taken 
from  us?  We  shall  cherish  the  Soul  in  the  silence 
and  leave  the  trappings  of  the  world — the  tinsel  and 
gewgaws.  It  is  expedient  to  have  our  possessions 
within,  compact  and  available,  that  we  may  be  in 
good  marching  order  and  shall  not  be  hindered  on 
the  journey.  Better  internal  forces  than  external 
incumbrances. 

Ah!  To  live  free  from  perturbation,  tranquil! 
serene!  How  do  we  call  ourselves  men — who  are 

[102] 


WEALTH 

driven  by  care,  we  who  are  slaves  to  a  calling  to  the 
end  that  the  vanity  may  be  pampered,  the  stomach 
appeased.  Fear,  toiling  to  lay  up  against  a  "rainy 
day,"  is  meanwhile  forging  chains.  But  to  the  serene 
mind  there  are  no  rainy  days.  Real  necessity  re- 
quires only  the  work  of  men  and  not  the  toil  of  slaves. 
Surely  there  is  a  high  price  paid  for  luxury;  simplicity 
would  lift  a  burden  from  the  shoulders.  Reflect, 
that,  after  all,  the  quintessence  of  things  may  never 
be  bought.  We  can  only  buy  according  to  our  ca- 
pacity; we  read  in  the  book  only  the  measure  of  our 
own  enlightenment;  we  see  in  the  work  of  art  only 
the  degree  to  which  we  are  receptive  to  the  beautiful, 
and  conversant  with  the  principles  of  art.  Nor  can 
there  be  obtained  the  full  significance  of  that  to 
which  somewhat  is  not  contributed — the  work  of 
mind  or  hands :  the  artist,  the  artificer,  the  craftsman 
retains  always  an  interest  in  what  is  bought  of  him. 
The  gardener  laying  out  a  flower  bed  will  abstract 
a  share  of  its  meaning  and  its  beauty.  What  are 
these  things  sought  after?  Are  they  worth  the  best 
part  of  human  life  ?  Is  the  diamond  more  beautiful 
than  the  rain-drop  on  the  barberry  leaf;  or  ruby, 
than  the  cardinal  flower  as  it  gleams  solitary  from 
amidst  the  low  alders;  is  there  woven  fabric  more 
delicate  than  the  spider's  web  ?  Is  there  aught  more 
precious  to  a  thoughtful  man  than  leisure:  leisure 
to  reflect,  to  meditate,  to  worship?  What  a  com- 
mentary upon  society  that  men  have  not  time  to 
observe  nature — nor  time  to  reflect  upon  what  they 
are,  nor  why  they  may  be  here! 

Values    are    not   always    apparent,    and    a   hasty 
judgment  would  often  overlook  that  which  is  best. 

[103] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

There  are  delicate  lovely  blossoms  so  fragile  they 
may  not  be  plucked  from  the  grassy  meadow  in 
which  they  grow;  so  is  it  with  our  fairest  visions, 
expressed  in  words  they  can  never  be,  for  their  subtle 
and  ethereal  quality  escapes  us.  The  sand-dunes  and 
the  desert  have  been  made  to  burst  in  bloom,  and 
where  once  was  a  dreary  waste,  the  Gold  of  Ophir 
now  twines  about  the  branches  of  the  pepper  trees, 
the  heliotrope  and  the  lemon  verbenas  stand  high  in 
air,  the  Cherokee  runs  riot  and  the  Marechal  Niel 
hangs  its  heavy  head.  And  this  much  will  love  do 
for  the  barren  life:  no  desert  but  shall  be  bright  with 
flowers;  no  Sierra  but  shall  have  its  snow-plant. 
There  are  kind  hearts  under  rough  coats;  there  is  a 
vision  of  truth  in  lowly  minds.  All  that  glitters  is 
not  gold,  and  there  is  a  gold  that  does  not  glitter. 

We  hear  of  men  today  in  India  who  can  neither 
read  nor  write  and  are  yet  profoundly  versed  in  the 
science  of  being;  men  who  have  never  owned  a  single 
piece  of  gold,  but  are  rich  in  the  Soul's  realization  of 
freedom,  and  who  rejoice  in  the  wealth  and  power  of 
self-control  and  self-union.  There  are  men  who 
wander  from  village  to  village  along  the  dusty  Indian 
roads,  calling  practically  nothing  their  own,  in  whose 
eyes  shines  the  light  of  peace,  on  whose  brows  is  the 
stamp  of  wisdom.  Men  of  remote  and  inadequate 
ways  of  life  these,  as  judged  by  western  standards; 
yet  must  we  bow  to  the  superiority  which  lies  in  a 
serene  consciousness,  though  housed  in  a  barren 
exterior,  for  a  true  sagacity  perfects  always  the  inner 
life  and  dwells  within  the  sanctuary.  And  what  shall 
we  say,  we  of  rich  externals,  but  no  serenity,  no 
self -trust  ? 

[104] 


WEALTH 

Every  man  comes  into  the  world  with  a  title  to  all 
that  is;  it  remains  for  him  to  prove  it  through  capacity. 
There  is  a  prior  title  to  this  lake,  this  forest,  these 
mountains,  than  any  that  is  on  record.  All  recorded 
titles  may  prove  defective,  for  like  people's  names 
they  seldom  fit  their  owners.  Such  an  one  has  a  deed 
to  the  shore  of  a  lake,  but  its  beauty  eludes  him  and 
he  foolishly  cherishes  the  possession  of  so  much 
muck  and  mire,  and  is  weighed  down  with  his  cubic 
yards  of  earth.  Another  is  ravished  with  the  beauty 
of  this  same  fair  lake;  it  is  to  him  a  consolation  and 
an  inspiration,  and  he  springs  aloft  in  the  joy  of  his 
spiritual  possessions.  Have  done  with  this  cry  of 
poverty,  and  reflecl;  that  for  you  have  been  painted 
and  chiseled  the  masterpieces,  for  you  has  been 
garnered  all  wisdom,  for  you  races  have  lived  and 
wrought;  that  in  the  dim  past  poets  wrote  for  you — 
looked  over  the  heads  of  their  unheeding  fellows, 
and  said,  "I  salute  you,  you  who  in  ages  to  come 
shall  commune  with  me — for  you  I  write."  Ponder 
this,  and  consider  how  august  a  personage  you  are  and 
never  more  belittle  yourself  or  live  other  than  nobly. 
And  how  marvelous  the  working  of  the  divine  laws 
that  a  little  book  should  live  through  the  ages — to 
come  in  at  your  window  and  open  before  you  its 
message  at  the  appointed  time,  that  seers  should 
prophesy  and  philosophers  meditate  and  historians 
write  for  you — you  whose  inheritance  of  beauty  is 
as  wide  as  the  cosmos,  and  as  deep;  whose  estate  of 
wisdom  is  as  great  as  your  own  soul;  whose  property 
in  love  is  as  large  as  your  own  heart. 

There  is  a  storehouse  of  undreamed-of  wealth  to 
which  every  soul  may  have  access;  knock,  and  the 

[105] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

door  shall  be  opened  to  you.  Is  not  truth  an  ade- 
quate legacy?  Is  not  the  kingdom  of  God  a  suffi- 
cient inheritance?  For  what  bauble  shall  we  re- 
nounce them  and  preserve  a  semblance  of  reason? 
It  is  not  currency  reform — neither  a  gold  standard 
nor  the  free  coinage  of  silver;  it  is  neither  protection 
nor  free  trade  that  shall  bring  the  "good  times"  we 
so  eagerly  await.  But  it  is  spiritual-mindedness,  right 
living  and  right  thinking;  it  is  love  in  the  world — 
more  cooperation  and  less  competition.  The  per- 
fection of  the  credit  system  is  one  indication  of  the 
degree  of  civilization,  but  trust  in  God  is  a  greater. 
There  is  a  spiritual  as  well  as  a  business  acumen. 
We  soon  pass  judgment  on  the  banker  who  fails  to 
note  the  proper  value  of  securities,  or  neglecls  the 
world  of  affairs;  but  here  are  we  all  foolish  bankers 
who  pay  no  heed  to  spiritual  values,  which  alone 
are  enduring. 

In  this  plea  for  a  right  understanding  of  what 
constitutes  wealth,  I  would  not  be  thought  foolishly 
to  disparage  the  good  offices  of  money.  Manifold 
are  its  beneficent  uses.  But  whenever  that  which 
is  ordained  a  means  is  falsely  elevated  to  the  dignity 
of  an  end,  a  goal  in  life,  the  perversion  worketh  woe. 
Money  as  a  means  is  an  agent  of  love;  as  an  end  it  is 
a  cause  of  sorrow,  a  breeder  of  strife,  and  only  when 
returned  to  its  proper  place  does  it  fulfil  its  benefi- 
cent function.  Not  until  the  gold  of  the  Nieblung 
is  restored  to  the  Rhine  does  peace  prevail.  Let  us 
acquire  money,  and  let  us  spend  it  if  in  so  doing  we 
may  quicken  the  generous  impulse  and  expand  the 
heart,  and  not  come  to  shut  our  eyes  to  the  wealth 
that  lies  within.  A  wise  man  regulates  his  expenditure 

[106] 


WEALTH 

by  what  is  fitting,  and  not  by  what  he  can  "af- 
ford." No  man  can  afford  to  spend  upon  himself 
more  than  is  needful;  none  can  afford  luxuries  where 
others  lack  necessities.  He  is  the  richer  who  is  con- 
tent with  less,  not  he  who,  having  much,  needs  more. 
But  prudence  lies  not  in  spending  little,  but  in  spend- 
ing wisely,  and  it  is  a  poor  economy  that  saves  money 
and  lets  go  generosity.  Would  that  we  knew  more 
of  the  beauty  of  simplicity  and  of  the  value  of  a 
stern  and  frugal  way  of  life,  for  high  living  ever 
discourages  high  thinking,  and  when  most  lavish 
to  the  body  we  are  penurious  to  the  Soul. 


[107] 


XI.   TRUE  AIMS 

THE  WISE  men  of  our  youth  recede  before 
our  maturing  vision;  the  giants  diminish 
in  stature,  and  presently  we  are  abreast  of 
them  and  look  over  their  heads.  Our 
idols  descend  from  their  pedestals.  With  what  assur- 
ance were  we  children  taught  fables  to  which  there 
was  no  moral;  and  having  discerned  this  we  see  how 
assumed  was  this  assurance  of  our  early  teachers. 
How  impermanent  are  our  impressions.  The  greatest 
ship  or  tallest  building,  or  the  span  of  new  bridge 
have  our  curiosity  for  a  day  and  are  no  longer  thought 
of.  The  travesty  of  justice — the  infamous  trial — 
horrify  us  for  the  moment  but  make  no  lasting  im- 
pression. The  battle-field  and  the  holocaust  are 
soon  forgotten.  We  must  needs  have  a  ship  a  mile 
long,  or  a  bridge  to  the  moon  to  hold  the  attention; 
and  such  would  soon  be  an  old  story.  In  what  a 
fever  do  we  live!  We  must  have  perpetual  news, 
and  yet  no  news  is  ever  new.  Photograph  any  street 
scene  and  all  the  persons  in  it  appear  to  be  moving 
at  a  dog  trot.  Yet  no  man  ever  ran  away  from  him- 
self. Every  man  runs  because  another  runs — but 
no  one  stops  to  inquire  whither.  We  are  like  men 
traversing  the  ice  in  a  direction  contrary  to  the 
movement  of  the  floe;  there  is  no  change  of  latitude 
commensurate  with  the  exertion.  All  things  are 
afloat, — the  world's  afloat! 

But  there  is  that  which  remains  forever  firm,  and 

[108] 


TRUE  AIMS 

there  should  we  stand  related.  There  is  a  substance 
and  it  may  be  found,  a  purpose  and  it  may  be 
known;  who  has  faith,  perception,  will — he  shall 
find  and  to  him  it  shall  be  known.  Life  is  spiritual 
here  and  now  and  God  is  nearer  than  we  know — 
"nearer  than  hands  and  feet."  To  be  skeptical  of 
the  world  is  one  thing,  to  be  skeptical  of  life,  quite 
another.  The  former  may  be  the  beginning  of 
philosophy,  the  latter  is  misanthropy  and  nullity. 
Truth  only  is  infallible;  and  men  and  events  worthy 
only  in  as  much  as  they  reflect  this.  Therefore  let 
thy  allegiance  be  to  truth  alone.  To  honor  God 
is  to  do  reverence  to  the  soul  in  men;  but  to 
fail  in  the  recognition  of  the  Divine  Immanence  is 
to  be  at  best  but  a  half-brother  to  them.  We  are 
beholden  to  the  purpose  which  placed  us  here,  which 
has  nurtured  us  through  immemorial  time,  preserving 
inviolate  the  intrepid  Soul,  that  we  should  discover 
our  identity  and  straightway  declare  allegiance  to 
divine  law;  should  aim  to  sing  this  event  in  the 
poetry  and  inspiration  of  our  lives.  Men  enough 
there  are  to  scoff  and  sneer  at  life,  men  enough  to 
merely  hope  for  a  beneficent  outcome — to  predict  a 
compensation  for  present  conditions;  but  only  now 
and  then  is  there  a  man  who  can  show  that  these 
are  not  ills.  A  little  observation  shows  that  society 
is  infected  with  pessimism.  The  world  is  full  of 
future  idealists  who  are  nevertheless  present  pessi- 
mists. What  it  needs  always  is  men  who  believe  in 
today,  who  see  in  the  hour  the  guarantee  of  eternity; 
men  of  a  resolute  faith  who  shall  consecrate  their 
divine  energies  to  the  understanding  rather  than  to 
the  intellect.  That  man  cannot  live  by  bread  alone 

[109] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

should  be  obvious  to  a  dullard.  No  food  but  the 
bread  of  life  shall  satisfy  the  ultimate  hunger.  There 
is  need,  then,  of  those  who  can  prevent  the  spread  of 
a  spiritual  famine  and  carry  relief  to  the  many  that 
lack  spiritual  nourishment.  And  these  the  world 
needs  for  its  own  sake, — not  for  truth's  sake,  for  truth 
needs  no  assurances.  It  is  a  trite  saying  this,  "for 
God's  sake,"  and  means  nothing.  Beneath  the  very 
preacher's  nose  they  sit — these  hungry  souls  with 
their  famished  look. 

History  has  shown  how  abortive  are  all  aims  not 
projected  from  a  universal  standpoint — that  is,  with 
reference  to  the  Soul;  and  every  man's  private 
experience  must  ultimately  confirm  this.  In  his 
heart  of  hearts  the  millionaire  has  come  to  feel  an 
affinity  with  Midas.  Fame  can  be  nothing  to  man; 
it  is  much  to  his  egotism.  But  the  day  comes  when 
he  perceives  that  this  latter  is  something  it  were  well 
to  be  rid  of.  Seek  money  to  the  end  of  happiness 
and  the  money  is  gained,  but  the  happiness  escapes. 
Ever  is  self-loathing  the  end  of  self-seeking. 

But  how  shall  we  set  limits  to  true  achievement 
who  are  but  mediums  for  the  all-pervading  Spirit — 
tongues  that  must  ultimately  speak  for  eternal 
truth  ?  The  mistake  has  been  in  assuming  that  men 
were  separate  and  detached  in  their  existence,  in- 
stead of  points  of  admission  to  a  common  source. 

No  man  ever  withdrew  himself  in  bitterness  from 
men  but  presently  he  was  called  upon  to  make  atone- 
ment. We  shall  expiate  every  hour  wasted  in 
melancholy;  repay  with  interest  the  time  we  gave 
to  playing  the  cynic.  Go  the  length  of  cynicism 
and  it  shall  be  required  of  you  to  go  as  far  in  the 

[no] 


TRUE  AIMS 

opposite  direction.  The  angle  of  reflection  shall 
equal  the  angle  of  incidence.  Love  solitude  we  may, 
but  woe  to  him  who  is  guilty  of  inhumanity.  Love 
nature  more  but  love  not  men  the  less.  He  who  per- 
ceives not  God  in  his  brother  shall  look  in  vain  else- 
where. There  is  no  drawing  nearer  to  God  through 
separating  ourselves  from  men.  The  experiment  is 
often  tried  and  as  often  fails.  But  it  is  the  attitude 
which  counts — not  the  appearance.  It  were  as  well 
to  dwell  in  a  cave  as  to  live  among  men  and  have  no 
point  in  common.  There  are  more  hermits  in  cities 
than  in  the  wilderness.  Ours  is  not  wisdom  until  it 
has  become  serene  and  tolerant.  We  shall  be  toler- 
ant of  their  very  foibles;  have  we  not  so  lived,  and 
shall  they  not  presently  view  their  folly  as  now  we 
have  been  brought  to  view  our  own  ? 

Never  was  there  a  serene  moment  but  it  bore  the 
fruit  of  serenity;  never  a  moment  of  courage  but  was 
productive  of  courage.  One  intrepid  man  may  in- 
fuse the  heroic  spirit  into  a  multitude.  A  few  men 
with  a  genius  for  enterprise  and  affairs  keep  the  ball 
rolling;  plenty  there  are  to  push  at  their  bidding. 
See,  then,  the  worth  of  the  individual.  Little  kings 
inherit  thrones, — little  men  plot  and  scheme;  but 
the  command  is  thrust  upon  the  great  man, — on  him 
the  office  waits.  Creation  awaits  the  approach  of 
genius  and  is  ever  urging  its  advent.  When  the  man 
comes  there  is  always  palette  and  chisel  ready  at 
hand.  Our  life  proves  to  be  a  preparation  for  the 
event,  public  or  private. 

Opportunities  for  public  heroism  are  few,  and 
even  so  are  cheapened  and  made  theatric  by  their 
very  publicity.  But  it  is  left  to  every  man  to  be 

[in] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

heroic,  if  he  will,  in  his  private  life;  there  is  no  bar 
to  private  heroism.  And  why  should  we  have  an 
audience  for  our  acls;  why  make  a  spectacle  of  virtue  ? 
There  is  an  inner  sanction,  a  silent  approval,  which 
is  heard  beyond  all  plaudits;  and  this  suffices  to  self- 
reliance.  When  the  world  is  become  our  mentor  we 
have  no  longer  any  rugged  or  Spartan  virtue  left. 
Men  hesitate  to  open  an  account  with  God,  forgetful 
that  the  Spirit  writes  down  their  every  acl,  and 
strikes  a  balance  on  their  faces. 

To  do  well, — this  alone  concerns  us;  to  do  better 
than  another  is  of  no  moment — is  indeed  a  false  aim. 
The  achievement  of  another  is  never  properly  a 
standard.  Rather  let  us  trust  ourselves  and  accept 
the  Inner  Light  and  the  standard  there  revealed. 
Nor  may  I  rightly  aim  to  surpass  another;  but  to 
reach  my  own  mark  and  fulfil  my  own  measure 
alone  involves  a  worthy  motive.  With  all  due  allow- 
ance for  the  competitive  spirit  it  is  at  best  a  respect- 
able selfishness.  Shall  we  not  aim  high  for  love  of 
truth  and  live  nobly  for  the  honor  of  that  which 
makes  us  to  live  at  all  ?  What  if  men  were  as  eager 
for  divine  approbation  as  for  the  praise  of  the 
world  ? 

"Suppose,"  said  Epicletus,  "Caesar  were  to  adopt 
you,  there  would  be  no  bearing  your  haughty  looks; 
and  will  you  not  feel  ennobled  on  knowing  yourself 
to  be  the  son  of  God."  Rest  assured  if  you  have  cast 
in  your  lot  for  truth,  that  truth  will  not  forsake  you. 
Whoever  works  for  good  is  sustained  by  good;  who- 
ever lives  a  normal  life  receives  the  cooperation  of 
law.  The  service  is  reciprocal;  to  serve  wisdom  is 
never  a  thankless  task. 

[112] 


TRUE  AIMS 

In  the  event  of  our  lost  opportunities  being  mar- 
shaled before  us  we  would  doubtless  be  astounded 
and  chagrined  at  the  disclosure, — so  numerous  are 
they,  so  simple  their  character.  We  passed  through 
a  field  of  flowers  and  saw  them  not.  We  would  be 
astonished  at  what  is  not  there  no  less  than  by  what 
appears.  The  futile  ambition,  the  wrong  investment, 
the  political  failure, — for  these  we  may  look  in  vain; 
but  our  Nemesis  is  very  real — very  precise.  Chil- 
dren would  pass  before  us — children  whose  smiles 
we  did  not  see;  men  who  asked  nothing  and  to  whom 
we  should  have  given;  those  in  need  of  kind  words 
and  for  whom  we  had  none.  The  child  that  hungered 
for  the  affection  we  withheld  would  be  there,  and  the 
gentle  mother  whose  only  reproof  was  patience  and 
forbearance.  Not  what  we  failed  to  get  but  what  we 
failed  to  give, — such  are  lost  opportunities;  new 
hopes  to  which  we  offered  no  encouragement;  feeble 
longings  which  our  indifference  stifled;  meetings  and 
partings  to  which  we  brought  no  smile,  no  faith,  no 
courage. 

O  to  scatter  blessings  broadcast,  to  give  without 
wish  for  return,  to  do  good  for  the  joy  of  it,  to  toss  your 
good- will  and  heartiness  right  and  left  among  men;  to 
bring  a  smile  to  wan  faces,  hope  into  dull  eyes,  sun- 
shine into  dark  corners,  and  so  touch  men's  lives 
that  they  shall  feel  the  passing  of  some  benign  in- 
fluence, the  presence  of  something  divine, — here  are 
aims!  O  the  joy  of  a  big  heart  and  a  kindly  nature; 
the  power  to  draw  the  best  from  men, — to  infuse 
into  them  a  new  life  and  courage;  to  catch  them  up 
out  of  the  life  of  eating  and  drinking  and  cast  a  ray 
of  the  Soul  into  their  befuddled  minds;  to  kindle  a 

[113] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

little  flame  of  unselfish  love  in  cold  hearts,  a  little 
enthusiasm  in  cold  intellects;  to  take  the  miser  out 
of  his  den  and  show  him  the  riches  of  the  heart;  to 
take  the  rich  man  from  his  playthings  and  reveal  to 
him  the  beauty  and  purpose  of  life!  Whatever 
cramps  the  mind  or  contracts  the  heart,  whatever 
apparent  success  in  one  direction  that  makes  intol- 
erance of  other  directions,  may  be  reckoned  a  false 
aim.  All  success  must  be  weighed  in  this  balance. 
We  must  have  something  real  to  show  for  the  having 
lived.  To  have  grown  wise  and  kind  is  the  real  suc- 
cess. We  should  be  holy  men  in  the  sense  of  whole 
men, — whole-souled,  whole-hearted.  Men  will  look 
to  us  in  their  time  of  trouble  for  courage,  wisdom, 
faith, — and  if  we  have  but  money  to  offer  we  shall 
appear  foolish  indeed. 

Men,  aye,  races  of  men,  have  toiled  out  their  lives 
and  disappeared  without  accomplishing  as  much  as 
have  some  men  of  genius  in  a  single  day.  Why  talk 
of  time  ?  Where  is  there  a  man  who  has  lived  a  good 
hour  of  life;  or  one  who  is  now  living,  and  not  still 
preparing  to  live  ?  Three-score  years  and  ten  of  eat- 
ing, drinking  and  sleeping  is  a  puff  of  smoke.  But 
one  hour  of  faith,  one  hour  of  divine  life  inaugurates 
an  era.  To  live  divinely  is  not  to  ignore  the  common- 
place but  to  ennoble  it.  Did  we  accord  to  the  simple 
acfts  of  life  that  worth  and  dignity  which  is  their  due 
we  would  live  deeper  and  truer,  and  advance  in  har- 
mony with  the  eternal  purport  of  things.  Who  knows 
what  it  is  to  live;  who  knows  the  joy  of  real  life, — 
life  which  is  prayer,  life  which  is  worship.  Are  we 
to  beg  and  cringe  and  hang  on  the  outer  edge  of 
life, — we  who  should  walk  grandly?  Is  it  for  man 

[114] 


TRUE  AIMS 

to  tremble  and  quake — man  who  in  his  spiritual 
capacity  becomes  the  interpreter  of  God's  mes- 
sage,— the  focus  of  Divine  Light  ? 

In  the  divine  economy  is  no  experiment,  no  waste — 
no  loss.  But  we  are  under  the  necessity  of  becom- 
ing wise.  Therefore  think — and  think  again,  for  you 
shall  deliver  yourself  through  understanding.  Be 
earnest  for  truth,  and  whichever  way  you  turn,  be- 
fore you  stretches  a  road  that  leads  to  God.  What- 
ever the  present  outlook,  we  shall  yet  attain  a  broader; 
whatever  the  present  insight,  we  shall  yet  possess  a 
deeper.  There  is  no  stumbling-block  but  may  prove 
a  stepping-stone;  no  prison  bars  but  shall  fade  away. 
To  our  self-complacency  comes  no  uplifting  thought, 
no  sense  of  the  Immanent  Presence;  but  out  of  unrest 
comes  ultimately  a  divine  and  healing  consciousness. 
When  the  props  fall  away  we  re-recover  our  strength. 
After  the  storm  comes  a  glowing  sense  of  peace; 
from  the  ashes  of  the  old  springs  the  new — phenix- 
like. 

The  Spirit  descends  upon  all;  oftenest  to  the  pure 
in  mind, — the  child-eyed.  If  not  in  ecstatic  vision, 
then  in  uplifting  thought,  in  generous  impulse. 
Wherever  there  are  helping  hands,  wherever  there 
are  kindly  thoughts,  where  for  one  divine  moment 
unselfishness  speaks  her  benediction — there  is  the 
Spirit  and  there  is  the  presence  of  the  Lord.  It  may 
be  in  palaces — but  it  is  oftenest  in  homes.  Is  it  noth- 
ing to  withhold  the  carping  words,  nothing  to  forbear 
from  judging;  is  it  nothing  to  make  a  day  brighter, 
to  have  made  golden  one  passing  hour?  A  merry 
heart  will  ever  remain  the  best  medicine,  and  sweet 
thoughts  are  angels,  and  gentle  smiles  a  benediction. 

[us] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

More  kingly  it  is  to  have  given  a  bone  to  a  friendless 
dog  than  much  that  passes  for  kingliness;  and  to  let 
the  tide  of  your  good-will  flow  to  so  insignificant 
a  thing  as  yon  hop-toad  has  a  bearing  on  your  life. 
When  we  live  near  to  God,  ever  shall  the  Spirit  catch 
us  up  into  the  heaven  of  peace  and  good-will. 


[116] 


XII.   HIGHER  LAWS 

IN  A  higher  classification,  mankind  may  be  di- 
vided— irrespective  of  its  various  minor  attri- 
butes— into  two  grand  subdivisions  of  thinkers 
and  non-thinkers:  the  former  susceptible  of 
further  distinctions,  both  generic  and  specific,  be- 
coming more  and  more  specialized.  It  is  the  un- 
thinking— the  poor  in  thought — who  constitute  the 
real  masses,  the  clay  that  is  molded  by  the  minds  of 
thinkers.  So  arduous  is  it  to  think  for  ourselves,  so 
convenient  to  accept  other  men's  thoughts,  that  we 
are  for  a  period  constrained  to  waive  the  high  pre- 
rogative of  creative  and  original  thinking  and  to 
dwell  within  that  lesser  province  of  intellection — the 
sphere  of  imitative  and  mechanical  thought;  and 
thus  are  we  kept  circling  well  within  the  horizon  of 
some  book.  But  when  we  would  boldly  sail  to  the 
circumference  of  our  circle,  there  to  balance  on  the 
outermost  edge  of  the  universe,  where  sky  and  water 
meet,  the  horizon  has  somehow  slipped  before  us  and 
we  are  at  the  center  of  a  new  circle,  this  time  of  our 
own  projecting. 

He  that  owes  no  allegiance  save  to  the  Eternal, 
and  believes  first  in  himself  and  his  divine  right  and 
equality,  walks  thenceforth  among  manikins.  But 
these  men  are  not  elect,  they  are  self -evolved ;  and 
constantly  do  we  hear  of  traitors  in  the  ranks  of  the 
non-thinkers  who  have  crossed  to  the  other  side  never 
to  return,  detaching  themselves  as  do  icebergs  from 

[117] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

the  mass   of  a  glacier,   thenceforth  to  float  away, 
solitary. 

During  the  period  of  adaptation  to  its  new  /en- 
vironment, the  child  must  gradually  become  familiar 
with  perspective  and  must  acquire  the  faculties  of 
assigning  objects  to  their  respective  planes,  of  dis- 
criminating between  two  and  three  dimensions,  and 
of  distinguishing  solids  and  fluids.  The  develop- 
ment, in  some  degree,  of  these  faculties  through  ex- 
perience would  appear  to  be  the  necessary  prepara- 
tion for  voluntary  action.  To  this  end  it  is  probable 
that  the  sense  of  sight  contributes  as  much  to  delude 
as  to  enlighten;  and  it  is  by  hard  knocks  that  some- 
thing is  learned  of  the  properties  and  dimensions  of 
solids  and  their  relations  to  one  another  in  space. 
So  every  man  begins  life  an  explorer;  and,  from 
reconnoitering  first  a  crib  and  then  a  nursery,  he 
goes  to  investigating  broader  and  broader  fields. 

Thus  do  we  mature  infants  grope  in  the  mysterious 
world  of  unknown  quantities  and  indefinite  dimen- 
sions, and  are  bumped  and  bruised  through  inability 
to  judge  of  distances  and  broken  on  the  projecting 
corners  of  divine  and  immutable  laws;  relegating  to 
an  indefinite  futurity  that  which  is  contemporaneous 
with  us,  mistaking  the  third  dimension  for  a  fourth, 
and  stumbling  over  the  fourth  where  we  saw  only 
three.  And  in  this  manner  are  we  brought  to  per- 
ceive the  real  nature  of  our  environment,  that  we 
may  conclude  our  researches  within  the  realm  of 
subjectivity — nor  again  forsake  the  oasis  of  truth  in 
pursuit  of  a  mirage  of  the  desert. 

To  have  attained  an  outlook  whence  we  are  enabled 
in  some  measure  to  view  both  cause  and  effect,  the 

[118] 


HIGHER  LAWS 

one  commensurate  with  and  proceeding  logically 
from  the  other — and  this  law  of  sequence  in- 
herent in  the  nature  of  all ;  to  perceive  action  as  hav- 
ing its  inception  in  thought  and  issuing  thence, 
objective  proceeding  from  the  subjective  and  causa- 
tion the  sole  prerogative  of  spirit  and  not  of  matter, 
of  the  mind  and  not  the  body,  of  the  potter  and  not 
the  clay — this  perception  in  itself  constitutes  the 
passing  over  of  the  mind  from  the  irrelevant  and 
nondescript  dreamland  of  chance  to  the  conscious- 
ness of  fixed  and  permanent  spiritual  quantities.  It 
is  the  recognition  of  the  all-inclusiveness  of  the 
province  of  design,  of  intent  and  purpose;  wherein 
no  more  to  be  pursued  by  causeless  results — the 
headless  horsemen  who  lie  in  wait  for  the  unwary; 
where  no  longer  shall  we  throw  the  dice  nor  play  at 
roulette. 

This  same  outlook  reveals  the  interrelation  of 
theory  and  practice.  To  be  contemptuous  of  theory  de- 
notes a  lack  of  savoir-faire — an  intellectual  brusque- 
ness;  for  so  necessarily  restricted  is  the  finite  com- 
prehension of  natural  order,  and  yet  so  ingenious  is 
the  human  mind,  that  working  theory  has  become  a 
part  of  the  groundwork  of  science:  and  the  most 
eminently  practical  men  are  such  in  virtue  of  their 
recognition  of  its  nature  and  function.  In  short, 
theory  has  been  made  to  supplement  human  limita- 
tions in  the  cognizance  of  law,  and  affords  a  present 
working  basis;  and  practice  may  be  largely  defined 
as  theory  in  application.  The  affinities  of  atoms — 
their  very  existence — and  the  precise  nature  of 
various  forms  of  energy  are  still  theoretical  to  our 
partial  understanding,  but  serve,  nevertheless,  as  the 

[119] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

basis  upon  which  is  erected  a  superstructure  of 
chemical,  electrical,  and  commercial  interests;  and 
the  world  owes  much  to  those  practical  men  whose 
faith  in  the  theory  has  made  this  possible.  Were  it 
not  for  the  evolution  of  theory  we  would  doubtless 
still  wear  necklaces  of  teeth,  and  rings  in  the  nose, 
and  go  armed  with  clubs  and  javelins;  the  savage 
devoid  of  theory  remains  a  savage.  What  were  the 
reason  without  the  imagination  ?  A  dull  tool,  indeed, 
which  would  be  forever  chipping  stone  but  make 
never  a  Corinthian  column.  The  province  of  theory 
extends  as  well  to  political  and  governmental  science. 
Monarchism  is  a  theory  that  has  largely  failed — 
democracy  a  theory  that  is  being  tried. 

Seldom  is  the  message  of  the  eye  or  ear  wholly 
trustworthy;  and  to  obey  it  implicitly  is  to  follow  a 
will-o'-the-wisp  over  the  quagmires  of  illusion.  As 
we  float  upon  the  limpid  waters  of  the  lake,  sky-line 
and  water-line  do  sometimes  vanish,  distant  sails 
appear  unsupported  in  the  fluid  air,  and  sticks  lying 
on  the  sandy  bottom  seem  writhing  serpents  seen 
through  the  gentle  surface  undulations  of  this  so 
transparent  yet  delusive  medium.  Dip  an  oar  be- 
neath the  surface  and  the  straight-grained  ash  or 
hickory  appears  distorted  and  inadequate.  Given 
the  angle  of  refraction,  the  reason  diligently  corrects 
the  optical  illusion  and  in  time  makes  unconscious 
allowance  for  such  error.  And  so  the  indices  of 
refraction  are  obtained  for  various  media,  and 
science  stands  ever  ready  to  apply  the  tables  of 
correction  to  the  results  of  the  errant  senses. 

But  it  is  no  less  certain  that  whenever  we  dip  an 
oar  in  the  sea  of  sensuous  perception  it  is  apparently 

[120] 


HIGHER  LAWS 

deflected  from  the  normal;  and  it  becomes  impera- 
tive that  we  so  augment  our  tables  of  refradtion  as 
to  embrace  all  opinions,  concepts,  and  traditional 
wrappers  and  coverings  whatsoever,  and  make 
specific  allowance  and  correction  for  all  impressions 
that  reach  us  from  the  outer  world.  It  is  here  that 
we  are  brought  to  recognize  the  function  of  higher 
law;  for,  while  there  are  properly  speaking  none  but 
divine  laws,  yet  are  we  so  encompassed  with  hy- 
potheses that  for  lack  of  the  recognition  of  something 
better  are  constituted  laws,  and  so  deemed  axiomatic, 
that  it  becomes  expedient  to  make  the  distinction. 
But  the  knowledge  of  the  night  continually  vanishes 
with  the  dawn,  and  the  tongues  that  spoke  the  loudest 
are  silenced.  "Skim  milk"  everywhere  "masquer- 
ades as  cream";  on  every  hand  arise  pretenders  to 
the  throne  of  reason;  and  semblance  and  delusion, 
and  all  the  minions  of  the  seeming,  persistently 
throng  the  portals  of  the  mind,  so  that  again  and 
again  are  men  constrained  to  ask,  "What  is  real?" 
Yet  in  that  reality  do  we  find  our  life  and  being; 
and  these  divine  laws  are  the  method  of  its  work- 
ing and  impel  us  ever  upward. 

We  think  to  "break  the  law,"  and  at  will  to  set 
aside  divine  order,  or  to  divert  the  stream  of  good 
for  one  brief  moment  that  it  may  overflow  in  our 
direction  and  leave  others  high  and  dry — only  to 
find  the  bottom  has  fallen  out  of  our  little  tub  and  it 
will  no  longer  hold  a  drop.  To  follow  this  law  of 
good  is  to  receive  a  passport  in  whatever  direction 
we  would  travel;  and  at  every  port  we  land  we  have 
but  to  show  our  papers.  But  who  goes  contrary  to 
it  and  would  outdo  another  opposes  himself,  not  to 

[121] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

one  man  alone  but  to  the  power  of  universal  good. 
The  divine  laws  become  the  sponsors  of  every  good 
man;  but  the  very  dust  conspires  to  trip  a  rogue,  and 
every  sparrow  mocks  him. 

The  world — what  is  it,  then?  One  lives  in  a 
sphere  of  sensation  and  another  in  a  sphere  of  ideas; 
there  are  dream-worlds  and  thought-worlds,  worlds 
tumultuous  and  worlds  serene;  spheres  concentric, 
it  may  be,  and  these  numbered  by  quintillions. 
Day  after  day  we  bid  farewell  to  this  world  and 
awaken  to  a  new  one  somewhat  different;  once 
in  a  lifetime  to  have  all  the  old  landmarks  swept 
away  and  to  find  we  are  strangers  in  the  land.  A 
man  of  the  world!  Man  of  what  world — world  of 
fashion  or  world  of  letters;  world  of  society  or  world 
of  solitude?  Close  scrutiny  reveals  for  every  mind 
an  inner  and  an  outer  world — the  former  the  object, 
the  latter  its  image;  and  when  the  world  within  is 
comely,  then  indeed  is  its  reflection  fair.  We  are 
traveling,  after  all,  the  beaten  tracks  of  our  minds, 
and  seldom  get  beyond  them.  Now  and  again  some 
determined  explorer  breaks  away  and  starts  for  the 
pole  of  his  being,  returning  with  some  fragments  of 
evidence  from  that  terra  incognita — perchance  re- 
turning never  at  all.  Serene  minds  cast  the  reflection 
of  their  tranquil  beauty  before  them,  and  who  re- 
tains sweet  thoughts  moves  evermore  in  a  garden  of 
roses. 

We  are  as  yet  unable  to  define  the  world  of  dreams, 
nor  is  it  evident  that  it  is  susceptible  of  definition  in 
that  we  can  set  no  bounds  to  the  mind  in  sleep;  but 
the  mind  when  deemed  awake  tends  to  limit  itself 
on  every  hand.  Then  when  are  we  the  more  awake — 

[122] 


HIGHER  LAWS 

when  defined  or  undefined?  Ideas  may  come  in 
sleep  that  are  more  lucid  and  succinct  than  are  wak- 
ing ideas,  and  altogether  unmixed  with  anything 
extraneous,  standing  forth  boldly  as  planets  on  the 
background  of  the  night.  We  go  a-dreaming  with 
our  eyes  open,  and  all  our  days  are  somewhat  drowsy 
and  indifferent  to  real  issues  and  a  prey  to  conflicting 
thoughts.  In  waking  hours  the  phantoms  of  death, 
of  ills  and  imperfections,  flit  before  us  and  are  ac- 
counted real;  but  when  in  sleep  we  walk  amidst 
peaceful  groves  and  listen  to  the  thrushes,  we  say, 
"I  have  had  so  fair  a  dream."  It  may  transpire 
that  in  the  perfect  repose  of  profound  sleep  we  have 
possessed  the  clearest  recognition  and  so  have  drawn 
the  curtains  and  discreetly  retired  within;  that  we 
are  dwellers  in  that  land  of  Nod  and  but  visit  this 
earth  in  dreams — and  sleep,  the  ministering  angel 
of  the  night  that  descends  unto  the  mind  and  bids 
it  return  to  the  Fatherland. 

There  is  a  world  less  intangible  than  the  foregoing, 
yet  whose  seeming  anomalies  forever  repel  and 
baffle  casual  investigation.  I  speak  of  the  sphere  of 
men's  influence.  Deference  to  sense  evidence  so 
obscures  the  perception  of  what  is  real  that  we  are 
readily  deceived  into  thinking  men  are  actually  re- 
moved from  their  sphere  of  usefulness;  and  where 
the  influence  is  benign  and  far-reaching  we  are  at  a 
loss  to  be  reconciled  to  its  apparent  and  sudden 
withdrawal.  Because  the  physical  man  is  removed 
the  eye  discloses  no  man,  but  the  reason  should 
reveal  an  influence  steadily  growing.  The  years 
give  prestige  to  the  life  no  longer  visible  and  hallow 
the  sayings  that  were  once  unheeded.  One  who 

C  123  ] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

has  apparently  left  the  world  has  nevertheless  not 
withdrawn  his  influence,  but  is  enlarging  his  sphere 
of  good  in  virtue  of  the  transition :  for  whereas  in  the 
flesh  he  was  known  to  a  handful  only,  he  is  now  the 
good  friend  and  counselor  of  thousands.  In  place 
of  the  good  being  buried,  as  the  false  adage  would 
have  it,  it  grows  apace  and  becomes  the  beacon- 
light  of  ages.  But  the  malign  influence  of  vicious 
persons — the  Neros  and  Caligulas — declines  from  the 
hour  of  their  demise.  We  walk  with  a  dozen  men  in 
the  flesh  and  feel  no  affinity,  but  we  are  drawn  by  the 
human  magnets  of  other  times  and  delight  to  com- 
mune with  the  shades  of  the  departed  great.  And 
they  are  nearer  to  us  than  our  nearest  neighbors, 
and  understand  us,  it  may  be,  better  than  brother 
or  sister,  and  say  to  us  that  which  none  other  can  say. 
As  fountains  rise  and  fall,  intermingle  and  dis- 
appear, and  from  an  idea  assume  their  form,  so  there 
are  affinities  that  hold  together  and  give  shape  to 
human  lives  and  their  relations — and  repulsions  that 
break  asunder.  The  apple  falls  to  the  earth  and  the 
earth  to  the  apple,  and  we  call  it  gravitation;  but  so 
am  I  gravitating  to  you  and  you  to  me,  and  all  of  us 
toward  that  which  we  do  not  know,  but  of  which  we 
are  known.  Men  fall  toward  one  another  with 
irresistible  force,  and  fall  away  from  one  another 
with  equal  violence — surging  to  and  fro  in  friend- 
ships and  animosities.  A  bird's-eye  view  of  human- 
ity would  show  it  to  be  segregated  into  knots  and 
clusters,  each  revolving  about  some  individual  as  a 
center,  and  these  in  turn  moving  around  some  more 
distant  mesmeric  point — all  subject  to  the  motive 
power  of  suggestion. 

[124] 


HIGHER  LAWS 

My  thought  reaches  you  and  impresses  itself  upon 
your  mind;  and  if  I  am  the  stronger  presently  you 
are  set  in  vibration  and  begin  your  unconscious  revo- 
lution about  me,  carrying  with  you  satellites  having 
each  its  period.  And  thoughts  are  winged,  and  fly 
about  until  they  find  lodgment  in  some  mind;  and 
their  coming  and  going  are  ceaseless  vibrations  of 
the  ether.  They  are  every  one  a  suggestion  fraught 
with  future  action.  To  every  state  of  mind  come 
like  thoughts,  and  the  positive  mind  is  the  recipient 
of  messages  of  congratulation  from  far  and  near — a 
constant  stream,  resembling  the  fall  of  meteors  into 
the  sun.  We  harness  the  puissant  forces  of  attraction 
and  so  sit  in  communication  with  gods  and  men, 
with  all  minds  and  all  things.  And  to  the  knowing 
it  is  the  seal  of  Omnipotence,  but  to  the  foolish  an 
engine  of  destruction.  We  light  the  lamp  of  Aladdin 
and  the  earth  rocks  with  the  tread  of  genii,  and  the 
winds  rise  from  the  rustling  of  their  wings.  Now  we 
attract  a  princess  and  a  palace,  and  again  are  con- 
jured up  all  the  ills  to  which  flesh  seems  heir — and 
they  likewise  are  speedily  forthcoming.  Our  fears 
come  upon  us,  and  the  flock  of  crows  for  which  we 
have  looked  do  even  now  obscure  the  sun. 

There  is  a  state  of  mind  through  which  some  men 
pass — and  it  may  well  be  called  the  winter  of  their 
discontent — wherein  they  leave  no  stone  unturned 
in  the  effort  to  disparage  their  prerogatives  and  to 
erecl;  barriers  against  the  influx  of  good  tidings. 
Under  the  ban  of  this  delusion  the  mind  is  persistent 
in  its  denial  of  any  good  flowing  to  itself,  and  with 
faith  in  its  own  ability  still  defeats  its  good  ends 
through  avowing  self-limitation  and  repelling  those 

[125] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

benign  influences  that  are  tapping  gently  at  every 
window. 

Whoso  would  rise  to  the  full  height  of  his  possi- 
bilities must  possess  an  immeasurable  faith,  not 
alone  in  himself  but  in  the  cooperation  of  Divine 
Love.  He  must  rest  in  the  conviction  that  all  shall 
work  to  the  good  of  those  who  love  God,  that  all 
desirable  ends  are  to  be  obtained  by  whosoever 
abides  in  the  truth.  To  a  life  so  ordered  the  time 
is  ever  ripe  to  test  the  assertion  of  the  Spirit.  He 
that  once  despaired  of  happiness  and  equanimity — 
who  in  his  ignorance  gazed  upon  a  Cimmerian  world — 
shall  yet  behold  the  dawn  of  a  brighter  day  and 
rejoice  in  the  promise  of  a  new  life,  therein  to  ex- 
perience a  liberty  once  undreamed  of:  a  reality  and 
depth  of  living  until  then  unrecognized, — for  the 
tyranny  of  the  unreal  shall  be  overthrown,  and  that 
which  filled  the  horizon  shall  recede  and  become  as 
a  speck. 

How  dearly  are  we  loved  of  the  Spirit,  that  it 
should  admonish  us  of  our  every  fault — that  from 
the  cradle  to  the  grave  it  should  walk  beside  us.  And 
never  for  an  instant  are  we  left  wholly  to  our  own 
devices,  nor  allowed  to  deviate  a  hair's  breadth  from 
the  right  direction  without  a  reproof — that  we  may 
turn  in  time.  The  Divine  Warning  comes  in  diverse 
and  unexpected  ways.  An  aching  face  and  a  lame 
back  have  each  their  message  from  the  Soul;  and  if 
we  live  an  hour  without  the  consciousness  of  love 
we  shall  directly  be  made  aware  of  it.  Though  we 
skulk  surreptitiously  through  the  streets,  a  heavenly 
host  is  following  and  angels  hover  over  us;  for 
to  what  pinnacle  shall  we  ascend,  or  to  what 

[126] 


HIGHER  LAWS 

depths  may  we  plunge,  and  not  find  there  the  love 
of  God  ?  Truly  was  it  said  of  wisdom  that  her  every 
path  is  peace;  and  knowledge  is  like  oil  poured  upon 
the  troubled  waters. 

The  Infinite  offers  us  this  compensation — that  it 
is  in  itself  the  promise  of  everything  it  has  seemed 
to  withhold  or  take  away:  a  father  to  the  fatherless, 
a  child  to  the  childless.  The  seeking  of  a  lifetime, 
it  is  there;  the  aspirations  of  the  illustrious,  they  are 
there.  "It  is  only  the  finite  that  has  wrought  and 
suffered;  the  Infinite  lies  stretched  in  smiling  repose." 
We  live  immersed  in  the  wealth  we  seek;  we  are  sur- 
rounded by  the  good  to  which  we  would  attain.  Here 
is  the  vale  of  Tempe;  here  are  the  Elysian  fields. 
We  shall  cast  the  potent  spell  of  thought  over  this 
world  in  solution,  and  out  of  it  shall  crystallize  the 
objecls  of  our  true  desire. 

What  of  the  Adepts,  Arhats,  Mahatmas — mys- 
terious beings  having  control  over  the  elements? 
You  are  the  Adept  who  shall  control  your  senses; 
you  are  the  Mahatma  of  your  own  destiny,  the  ap- 
pointed magician  who  shall  cause  the  rod  of  daily 
life  to  blossom  with  lovely  thoughts.  The  Spirit 
shall  lead  you  on  to  all  good  things,  and  to  it  noth- 
ing is  impossible.  The  will  makes  the  way;  and  if 
it  be  the  human  will  the  way  may  be  confusion,  but 
if  the  Divine  Will,  it  shall  be  peace  and  plentitude. 
You  may  be  keeping  accounts,  and  presently  you 
shall  walk  out  of  the  door  that  for  so  long  has  seemed 
to  you  the  barrier  of  your  ideals  and  shall  find  your- 
self before  an  audience — the  pen  still  behind  your 
ear,  the  ink-stains  on  your  fingers — and  then  and 
there  shall  pour  out  the  torrent  of  your  inspiration. 

[127] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

You  may  be  driving  sheep,  and  you  shall  wander  to 
the  city — bucolic  and  open-mouthed;  shall  wander 
under  the  intrepid  guidance  of  the  Spirit  into  the 
studio  of  the  Master,  and  after  a  time  he  shall  say, 
"I  have  nothing  more  to  teach  you."  Now  you  have 
become  the  master,  who  did  so  recently  dream  of 
great  things  while  driving  sheep.  You  shall  lay 
down  the  saw  and  the  plane  to  take  upon  yourself 
the  regeneration  of  the  world. 

We  are  bounded  by  no  horizon  but  that  of  the 
mind — held  captive  within  imaginary  circles.  We 
shall  meet  with  no  barrier  but  that  of  our  own 
thoughts.  "Vaulting  ambition"  overleaps  itself, 
but  vaulting  aspiration,  never.  Our  deeds  shall  be 
commensurate  with  our  ideals.  "Hitch  your  wagon 
to  a  star."  Hitch  it  to  a  comet,  and  if  it  takes  you 
beyond  one  floating  speck  of  earth  you  shall  irradiate 
the  heavens  of  some  other.  You  who  have  waited 
this  weary  time,  impatient  to  a6l,  shall  be  hurled 
into  the  maelstrom  of  action.  You  who  have  for  so 
long  cherished  the  desire  to  think  shall  become  the 
recipient  of  great  thoughts,  descending  upon  you 
like  an  avalanche.  You  who  have  yearned  shall  find 
your  yearnings  take  shape,  as  the  ghostly  mist  rises 
from  out  the  forest — as  from  the  transparent  air  at 
the  cold  touch  of  the  mountain  come  beautiful  forms 
and  are  made  golden  by  the  parting  rays  of  sunlight. 
Your  ideals  are  taking  form,  as  trees  planted  grow 
while  we  sleep.  Past  your  door  rushes  the  current 
that  will  carry  you  to  the  goal ;  but  you  shrink  within 
the  doorway.  Come  out  into  the  sun  and  wind! 


[128] 


XIII.   THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

INTRODUCTION 

THE  AGES  have  wrought  for  concentration 
and  have  sought  to  bring  all  diffusion  to 
a  focus  and  to  centralize  all  that  was  out- 
lying. See  all  nebulae  brought  to  revolve 
about  a  center  and  to  contract;  shapeless  chaotic 
mass  by  the  law  of  sphericity  made  to  rotate  upon 
some  axis — turned  in  the  cosmic  lathe, — and  forth 
comes  a  beautiful  luminous  sphere.  Out  of  the  form- 
less proceed  beautiful  forms;  out  of  mass, — indi- 
viduals. A  stifling,  seething,  gaseous  envelope  gives 
place  to  pure  air.  The  elements  are  concentrated 
in  rock  and  soil,  in  oxide  and  chloride,  nitrate  and 
sulphate,  in  their  progress  to  the  ultimate  physical 
state,  and  a  grain  of  wheat  is  the  summary  of  im- 
mense preparation  and  deep-laid  plans.  The  dif- 
fused carbonic  acid  is  collected  in  plants;  vast 
reaches  of  the  atmosphere  are  gleaned  and  sifted 
to  form  a  cubic  foot  of  coal.  The  land  and  the  sea 
are  pressed  into  service;  countless  ages,  a  myriad 
fauna  and  a  vast  flora  are  called  into  requisition  to 
yield  phosphates,  silicates  and  carbonates, — and  to 
produce  gas  and  oil.  The  flame  of  this  lamp  is  the 
voice  of  time  and  speaks  in  accents  of  fire  of  the 
prehistoric  legions  that  have  left  this  token  of  their 
existence.  The  gold  in  solution  throughout  the  seas 
is  deposited  in  primeval  slates  to  be  later  united  in 
quartz  veins,  freed  by  glaciers,  sorted  and  collected 
by  mountain  streams  and  left  in  glittering  grains 

[129] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

in  gravel  beds.  The  scattered  iron  of  the  soil  is 
gathered  in  bogs,  and  various  ores  and  minerals 
are  collected  in  veins.  Everywhere  the  unavailable 
is  made  available,  the  inaccessible  made  accessible. 

Written  on  the  face  of  rocks  and  in  the  color  of 
the  soil,  inscribed  boldly  on  mountains  and  gently 
in  the  valleys,  written  plainest  in  the  fossil  letters  of 
the  sandstones,  of  the  slates  and  limestones,  is  the 
record  of  creation.  First,  a  long  dark  night, — 
Archean  abysmal.  Then  long  ages  with  primordial 
lands  and  seas:  a  world  tenanted  only  by  Protozoa. 
A  struggling  upwards  through  radiates,  and  mol- 
luscs, square  shouldered  and  antique;  through  crusta- 
ceans to  the  reign  of  trilobites,  and  on  to  the  early 
race  of  ganoid  fishes,  clothed  in  scaly  armor.  An 
age  of  amphibians, — of  vast  swamps  and  marshes 
choked  with  ferns  and  simple  plants;  insects  now 
flying  here  and  there,  but  a  world  still  flowerless, — 
songless.  An  age  of  reptiles,  of  huge  ichthyosaurs 
and  dinosaurs:  a  slow  progression  to  the  toothed 
and  reptile  ancestor  of  the  birds;  a  gradual  evolu- 
tion to  the  marsupials;  at  last  the  advent  of  true 
mammals,  and  the  encroachment  of  the  ar6lic  snows — 
a  great  ice  age.  A  day  of  mammoths  and  masto- 
dons and  giant  sloths;  a  present  day  of  song-birds, 
of  bony  fishes,  of  true  mammals,  having  possession 
of  the  air,  the  sea  and  the  land;  and  man,  the  arch 
potentate  having  dominion  over  all,  who  through 
wisdom  shall  cause  them  to  serve  his  advancement, 
who  in  ignorance  may  remain  with  them  an  animal. 
Genus  has  followed  genus,  type  succeeded  type, — a 
series  of  ever  progressing  forms  appearing  and 
departing  to  make  room  for  those  more  worthy. 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

Working  ever  from  lower  to  higher,  evolving  always 
a  larger  brain  cavity,  tending  toward  cephalization, 
reaching  the  ideal  of  cephalization  and  in  man  pass- 
ing eventually  to  spiritualization:  this  is  the  ultimate, 
this  the  goal  of  evolution.  As  the  more  highly 
cephalized  types  are  the  fittest  among  animals,  so 
the  more  spiritualized  types  are  the  fittest  among 
men.  Huge  saurians  with  small  brains  have  given 
way  before  small  mammals  with  larger  brains,  in  the 
progressive  expression  of  intelligence;  and  the  more 
spiritual  races  shall  supplant  the  animal  races  of 
men,  for  in  man  that  only  which  is  in  accordance 
with  truth  is  fittest  and  shall  survive. 

The  earth  is  a  storehouse  for  the  produces  of  the 
sun.  In  its  laboratories  are  myriad  essences,  per- 
fumes, pigments, — in  its  workshops  myriad  types 
and  patterns  with  which  the  Spirit  is  ever  working; 
kingdoms,  classes,  and  sub-classes,  a  host  of  orders, 
genera,  species,  and  yet  for  each  a  place;  each  plays 
a  part  and  is  worthy  of  a  name.  A  hundred  thousand 
species  of  phenogamous  plants,  and  as  many  flower- 
less  species;  ninety  thousand  species  of  beetles  alone, 
and  legions  of  ants,  bees  and  wasps,  of  moths  and 
butterflies,  and  all  the  rest;  to  say  nothing  of  worms, 
molluscs,  crustaceans,  and  the  great  class  of  verte- 
brates. All  this  perhaps  but  a  bagatelle  to  the  hosts 
that  have  become  extincl;.  This  vast  multiplicity, 
this  infinite  diversity,  referable  to  one  source — the 
conception  of  one  mind.  The  earth  may  be  likened 
to  an  ark  in  which  this  great  concourse  takes  its 
journey  through  the  celestial  spaces:  turned  right 
about  every  twenty-four  hours  and  not  in  the  least 
disturbed  by  it;  covering  thirty  thousand  meters 

[181] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

every  second  and  unconscious  of  it;  traversing  una- 
wares an  immensity  in  the  sublime  orbit  and  resting 
unperturbed  in  the  security  of  that  One.  In  the 
course  of  one  brief  season  of  three-score  years  and 
ten  we  are  hurled  seventy  times  with  enormous  ve- 
locity around  the  sun,  clinging  like  infinitesimal 
specks  to  the  cooling  surface  of  a  white-hot  projectile, 
rushing  through  swarms  of  meteors,  traversing  the 
far  regions  of  space,  and  yet  flying  never  remote  from 
the  love  of  God. 

The  rough  stone  has  been  cut  and  polished  and 
before  us  lies  the  gem  in  all  its  matchless  splendor, — 
every  facet  the  expression  of  a  different  beauty. 
Along  the  shore  where  in  long  broken  lines  the 
breakers  roll  in  three  deep,  the  loose  dry  sand  is 
piled  high  and  held  in  place  by  the  marram-grass, 
the  sturdy  faithful  friend  of  man.  Resister  of  the 
encroaching  sea,  defiant  alike  of  wind  and  wave, 
it  is  content  upon  barren  sands  where  little  else  can 
live,  and  thrives  where  others  perish.  Growing 
amidst  the  hard  glittering  grains  of  quartz,  destitute 
of  phosphate  and  nitrate,  destitute  of  the  luxuries 
dear  to  plant  life,  it  takes  from  the  earth  a  little 
moisture,  from  the  air  a  little  carbon.  Content  with 
these  necessities  it  leads  a  rugged  life,  the  bulwark 
of  the  sandy  coasts;  and  like  the  toilers  of  the  sea 
and  of  the  fields  it  has  the  simplest  fare  and  the 
fewest  wants. 

Beside  the  country  roads  dwell  the  humble  people 
of  the  wayside,  and  the  immigrants  from  beyond 
the  sea:  ground  ivy  and  bouncing-bet,  and  tansy, 

[182] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

pigweed  and  thistles.  And  there,  too,  grow  the  wind- 
fertilized,  the  lowly  ones — grasses  and  plantains — 
the  plain  and  homely,  to  whom  was  given  no  frag- 
rance, no  gay  colors;  these  the  children  of  the  wind, 
the  beloved  of  the  southwind  and  the  westwind. 
They  are  the  solitary  ones  to  whom  come  no  bees, 
to  whom  no  butterfly  ever  pays  a  friendly  visit;  who 
never  hear  the  pleasant  hum  of  insects,  who  secret 
no  treasure  but  live  thus  unnoticed  by  the  roadside, 
remembered  only  by  the  wind.  Here  also  the  vaga- 
bonds, burdock  and  sticktight,  and  all  the  despised 
who  with  a  perseverance  born  of  the  virile  force  of 
nature,  and  with  hooks  and  claws,  hang  their  prickly 
fruit  on  the  spaniel's  ears  and  the  collie's  tail. 

In  the  hillside  pastures  where  boulders  lie  scat- 
tered as  they  were  left  by  the  retreating  ice  sheet, 
the  mullein  puts  forth  its  great  flannel  leaves,  and 
yarrow,  and  wild  carrot,  and  stone-crop  lead  their 
hardy  lives.  Here  where  running  cinquefoil  and 
strawberry  vines  sparsely  cover  the  rocky  soil, 
meadow  ants  make  their  nests  and  pursue  their 
routine  of  work  amidst  colonies  of  esculent  puff  balls. 
Concealed  in  the  beard-grass  at  the  foot  of  a  straggling 
barberry,  the  field  sparrow  sits  on  her  second  batch 
of  eggs,  while  field  crickets  take  their  way  in  incon- 
sequent leaps  under  the  dwarf  sumacs  and  around 
stunted  junipers,  which  perhaps  serve  them  as  vast 
and  towering  landmarks  in  their  excursions  abroad, — 
they  who  perceive  the  expanse  of  blue  through  dis- 
tant openings  in  the  sweet-fern  overhead. 

In  the  bogs  the  rich  confusion  of  forms,  the  lux- 
uriant aspedt,  makes  real  and  contemporary  the 
carboniferous  age,  where  now  is  the  home  of  orchids 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

and  the  haunt  of  the  blacksnake  and  the  bittern, 
where  now  the  call  of  the  catbird  comes  up  from  the 
alders.  On  the  soft  seal-brown  wood  of  fallen  hem- 
locks that  have  lain  for  years,  on  the  rotting  stumps 
of  the  first  growth  of  the  forest,  are  crowded  mosses, 
lichens  and  mushrooms.  The  polyporus  projects 
from  leaning  white  birches,  tier  upon  tier  of  buff 
and  ashen-tinted  shelves.  Under  hemlocks  grows 
the  chanterelle,  and  in  the  rich  black  earth  the 
orange-milk  mushroom,  bright  hued  as  some  tropic 
blossom.  The  tangle  of  peat-moss  is  the  home  of 
myriad  hunting  spiders ;  a  garden  graced  by  the  rose- 
purple  adder's-mouth,  and  sometimes  a  white- 
fringed  orchis.  Liverworts  grow  like  green  scales 
at  the  water's  edge;  horse  tails  stand  ere 61  like  quills. 
The  osmunda  circles  round  its  fertile  fronds,  tower- 
ing above  creeping  gold-thread  and  patches  of  wood- 
fern.  There  are  water- arams  and  turtle-heads,  loving 
well  the  water;  there  are  sundew  and  pitcher- plants, 
skunk-cabbage  and  false  hellebore,  all  dwellers  in 
this  woodland  quiet.  Such  loveliness  is  there  in  the 
despised  bog,  such  promise  in  decay,  that  from  the 
ruins  of  a  hemlock  a  garden  of  orchids  springs. 

So  fair  is  the  face  of  Nature,  so  winning  is  her 
smile,  so  expressive  her  grace  and  beauty,  that  it  is 
not  strange  men  would  be  content  with  this  passing 
loveliness;  should  write  sonnets  to  the  moods,  the 
smiles  and  frowns,  but  seldom  an  ode  to  the  Soul  of 
Nature.  It  is  significant  that  men  once  believed  in 
divinities  of  the  woods  and  streams;  saw  them  van- 
ishing o'er  the  meadows;  heard  them  whispering  in 
the  forest  and  laughing  in  the  waters;  that  they  once 
believed  in  Naiad  and  in  Dryad.  And  it  is  still  a 

[134] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

gentle  custom  in  Japan  when  the  land  is  bright  with 
the  cherry  blossom  and  wistaria  to  write  petitions 
and  tie  them  to  the  flowering  branches  of  the  plum 
tree. 

We  no  longer  make  offering  to  Ceres  and  to  Nep- 
tune, no  longer  hear  the  pipes  of  Pan  nor  the  lute  of 
Orpheus,  no  longer  pour  libations  of  wine  on  the 
roots  of  the  tulip  tree;  and  all  our  nymphs  are  water- 
lilies.  But  none  the  less  the  Soul  has  not  gone  out  of 
Nature;  it  is  still  the  source  of  her  perennial  youth. 
Divinity  within  us  makes  solemn  reverence  to  divin- 
ity in  Nature;  turns  to  the  forest  tree  and  there  meets 
itself;  sees  itself  in  the  squirrel  nimbly  climbing  in 
its  branches,  in  the  saw-fly  ovipositing  in  its  leaves, 
in  the  larva  worming  its  way  beneath  the  bark; 
beholds  itself  in  the  violet  at  its  foot,  in  the  fish- 
hawk  sailing  overhead,  in  the  cloud,  in  the  sunshine 
and  the  rainbow. 

The  inspired  votary  admiring  all  beauty  yet  sees 
it  is  but  the  symbol.  He  reads  the  stars,  learns  his- 
tory from  the  rock,  love  from  the  flower,  and  wisdom 
of  the  owl.  Always  he  inquires,  and  nothing  in  na- 
ture is  to  him  trivial  or  without  meaning.  Where 
did  the  ant  acquire  its  language,  the  bee  learn  its 
geometry;  how  came  the  sand- wasp  to  lay  up  food  for 
the  offspring  it  may  never  see,  the  ichneumon  to 
place  its  eggs  in  the  living  body  of  a  larval  moth? 
Who  taught  the  insec~l  to  simulate  a  leaf,  the  part- 
ridge and  the  sandpiper  to  employ  such  artifice  and 
dissimulation  in  the  protection  of  their  young? 
Whence  came  the  faith  of  the  gall-fly  to  trust  the 
scrub  oak  to  become  the  foster-parent  of  its  progeny, 
or  the  cow-bird  to  rely  upon  oven-bird  and  vireo  to 

[1S5] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

hatch  her  eggs  and  feed  her  young;  and  whence  the 
foresight  of  the  caterpillar  that  fastens  to  the  tree 
the  leaf  on  which  it  would  pass  the  winter  ? 

On  the  passes  of  the  Himalayas  turning  in  the 
hands  of  Bhutans  and  Thibetans,  and  revolving  in 
the  porticos  of  the  temples  among  the  clouds,  there 
the  prayer  wheels  proclaim  with  every  revolution 
the  jewel  in  the  lotus.  Where  crawl  the  copper-head 
and  moccasin,  where  roam  the  red  fox  and  the  deer, 
where  live  the  caribou  and  beaver,  where  breed  the 
brant  and  wild  goose;  in  the  cane-brake  and  the  ash 
swamp,  among  the  maples  and  the  chestnuts,  among 
the  tamarack  and  balsams,  here  sparkles  still  this 
jewel  in  the  lotus, — the  self  within  the  self,  the  Soul 
within  all  things,  the  all-pervading  Spirit.  And  the 
naturalist  that  correlates  all  fa6ls  and  perceives  this 
underlying  unity,  while  seeking  in  the  bogs  for 
orchids,  and  by  the  ponds  for  algae,  or  traversing 
in  exultation  the  crests  of  high  sierras,  may  wander 
perchance  to  those  Elysian  fields  where  are  the 
solemn  tokens  of  the  Word,  and  shall  behold  the 
fauna  and  the  flora  of  a  higher  life.  Then  shall  he 
see  nature  as  the  expression  of  divinity,  as  the 
Divine  in  him  made  manifest,  and  learn  that  the 
bluebird  and  the  wood-thrush,  the  violet  and  the 
lady's-slipper  is  each  a  particular  phase  of  the  Divine 
Mind,  its  life  history  a  glimpse  of  the  process  whereby 
God  works. 

It  is  essential  to  regard  animals  with  kindly  interest 
rather  than  with  curiosity,  to  covet  their  good-will 
and  not  their  bones  and  skin  if  we  would  have  an 
insight  into  the  nature  of  things.  It  is  recorded  as 
evidence  of  the  power  of  the  mandibles  of  a  species 

[136] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

of  staghorn  beetle,  that  an  individual  confined  in  an 
iron  canister,  gnawed  a  hole  in  its  prison  and  made  its 
escape;  so  often  does  science  emphasize  the  minutiae 
while  failing  of  a  broad  comprehension  of  nature 
as  a  whole;  so  prone  is  she  to  lay  stress  upon  what 
is  trivial,  and  to  overlook  that  which  is  essential. 
But  that  a  beetle  should  so  love  freedom,  that  a  beetle 
should  have  the  courage,  the  will,  the  determination, 
to  overcome  apparently  insurmountable  obstacles 
and  gain  its  liberty,  is  a  fa<5t  of  no  less  than  divine 
import,  a  fa<5l  so  significant  as  to  place  the  whole 
animal  kingdom  before  us  in  a  new  light. 

There  is  one  thread  of  life  ramifying  in  all  forms, 
and  it  follows  that  all  sentient  life  experiences  cer- 
tain emotions  in  common.  The  recognition  of  this 
identity  throughout  is  the  first  step  to  a  higher  com- 
prehension of  nature  and  should  be  the  fundamental 
axiom  of  scientific  research;  for  it  is  the  real  province 
of  science  to  investigate  phenomena  only  in  relation 
to  principle,  form  as  the  embodiment  of  spirit,  and 
life  as  the  expression  of  love.  It  is  not  the  academic 
but  the  spiritual  mind  which  receives  the  true  im- 
pression of  nature,  and  which  shall  reveal  the  more 
significant  truths,  for  it  sees  in  bird  and  flowers  not 
an  aggregate  of  cells,  nor  a  wonderful  mechanism, 
but  a  friend  the  mystery  of  whose  life  is  one  with 
that  of  its  own.  Love  is  the  key  to  the  universe  which 
unlocks  all  doors.  It  rests  with  the  little  child  to 
gainsay  the  most  eminent  of  vivise&ionists.  There 
is  to  the  lover  of  nature,  then,  a  certain  obtuseness, 
not  to  say  barbarity,  in  that  not  uncommon  treat- 
ment of  the  biographies  of  animals,  especially  of 
game-birds  and  water-fowls,  wherein  such  undue 

[187] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

stress  is  laid  upon  their  conduct  in  dire  emergencies. 
It  betrays  a  callousness  to  those  sufferings  and 
emotions  which  are  no  less  than  human;  how  they 
acT;  when  wounded,  whether  diving  or  running, 
and  what  manner  of  defense  they  make;  of  song- 
birds, how  they  endure  the  loss  of  the  eggs,  how  one 
will  survive  the  loss  of  its  mate  taken  as  a  specimen, 
and  whether  or  not  they  pine  in  captivity.  That 
such  recountals  should  find  any  place  in  the  life 
histories  of  birds  and  mammals  is  as  incongruous 
as  if  in  writing  of  the  genus  Homo  we  were  to  record 
as  pertinent  fa6ls,  that  man  when  confined  in  a 
dungeon  no  longer  sings  and  is  dejected,  that 
when  his  children  are  taken  from  him  he  is  subject 
to  uncontrollable  grief  and  despair,  that  when 
wounded,  if  defenseless  he  uses  all  stratagem  to 
escape,  but  if  brought  to  bay  will  use  tooth  and 
nail  in  his  poor  hope  of  life,  and  is  then  dangerous 
to  encounter. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  tonic  of  nature  is  F  Major. 
When  the  wind  speaks  through  the  forest,  when  the 
ocean  resounds  along  the  granite  shore,  it  is  thus  they 
speak;  and  the  hum  of  great  cities  and  the  manifold 
sounds  of  nature  blend  in  this  dominant  major  chord. 
There  is  then  one  key  to  which  Nature  is  attuned; 
one  keynote  whose  overtones  range  upward  through 
the  spheres  of  insight  and  of  sympathy;  and  who 
dwells  there  must  vibrate  in  unison.  Strike  the  key- 
note of  a  bridge  and  the  tone  of  a  violin  may  set  the 
structure  in  oscillation;  strike  the  fundamental  of 
the  Soul  and  there  shall  ensue  a  rhythmical  vibration. 
There  is  one  keynote  for  Nature  and  for  the  Soul, 
and  when  it  is  sounded  for  one  the  other  shall 

[138] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

respond,  and  node  coincide  with  node,  and  wave 
with  wave,  in  the  sublime  monotone. 

SPRING 

We  march  to  the  music  of  the  spheres  and  are 
lighted  by  the  radiance  of  a  million  suns;  we  live 
always  on  the  eve  of  great  discoveries  and  are  the 
witnesses  of  unceasing  wonders.  Every  man  is  born 
in  an  age  of  miracles  and  is  the  inheritor  of  immense 
beauty.  Had  the  earth  made  but  one  rotation  upon 
its  axis,  that  spectacle  of  the  rising  and  setting  sun 
would  be  the  marvel  of  the  ages.  Did  but  one  rose 
bloom  upon  the  earth  we  would  build  for  it  a  temple ; 
had  but  one  bird  been  seen  to  spread  its  wings  and 
sail  into  the  sky,  or  but  one  butterfly  to  expand  its 
gold  and  azure  splendor  upon  the  blossoms  of  the 
milkweed,  we  would  long  retain  the  memory  of  so 
fair  a  sight.  He  is  happy  who 'amidst  the  care  and 
turmoil  of  the  world  cherishes  in  all  perfection  the 
innate  love  of  the  beautiful:  who  regards  with  joy 
and  wonder  and  reverence  the  procession  of  infinite 
beauty  which  flows  perpetually  from  the  Great  Soul 
of  the  universe. 

Nature  exacts  more  than  passing  admiration;  she 
would  have  worship.  To  this  end  she  importunes, 
with  persistence  and  unremitting  patience  besieges 
us,  and  undertakes  with  every  crude  semblance  of  a 
man  the  culture  of  that  germ  of  true  life — the  per- 
ception of  the  beautiful.  Year  by  year  she  revolves 
for  him  her  seasons;  appeals  to  him  with  the  spring- 
time— the  Primavera;  brings  thick  and  fast  in  sweet 
confusion  all  the  flowers,  columbines  and  bellworts, — 
medeola  and  twisted-stalk  and  trilliums;  spreads 

[139] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

a  carpet  of  houstonia  and  yellow  cinquefoil,  and  stars 
the  grass  with  dandelions;  leads  him  by  still  waters 
and  smooths  for  him  a  couch  of  violets.  She  with- 
holds no  charm  but  lavishes  a  wealth  of  beauty  in 
common  things:  in  fresh-ploughed  fields  and  April 
skies,  in  apple  blossoms  and  buttercups,  and  country 
lanes  in  lilac  time,  in  the  rosy  breasts  of  grosbeaks 
and  the  indigo  blue  of  buntings,  in  the  ruby  throats 
of  humming-birds  and  the  pensile  nests  of  vireos,  in 
the  blue  of  robins'  eggs  and  the  mottled  eggs  of  spar- 
rows; in  the  languid  fluttering  of  cabbage-butterflies, 
the  marvelous  flight  of  swallows  and  the  easy  poise 
of  buzzards,  in  the  peeping  of  frogs  and  the  hum  of 
bees,  in  pattering  rain-drops  and  lapping  waves.  She 
writes  a  prayer  in  every  flower  and  incites  the  thrush 
to  singing  hymns;  is  eloquent  of  her  purpose  in  star 
and  cloud  and  tree,  that  men  may  at  last  look  up, 
may  rise  to  the  hefghts  of  worship  and  be  lead 
"through  Nature  to  Nature's  God." 

Have  you  found  the  closed  and  hidden  flowers  of 
violets,  or  seen  high  upon  the  spruce  the  crimson 
beauty  of  its  fertile  blossom?  Have  you  seen  the 
yellow  warbler  lay  a  floor  over  the  cowbird's  eggs, — 
the  carpenter-bee  take  nedlar  from  the  pinxter- 
flower;  heard  the  jubilant  song  of  oven-bird,  so  dif- 
ferent from  its  call,  or  the  plaintive,  noonday  note 
of  the  chickadee?  Do  you  know  why  among  the 
birds  the  females  are  so  plainly  dressed;  and  have 
you  sought  the  reason  and  purpose  of  songs  and  in- 
secl;  sounds,  of  the  nectar  and  perfume  of  blossoms  ? 
Natural  and  sexual  selection  do  not  explain  all; 
there  remains  yet  the  economy  of  beauty  which  must 
be  served.  Creation  is  not  the  sole  end  of  creation; 

[no] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

not  the  mere  renewal  of  types,  but  the  perpetuation 
of  a  scheme  of  harmony.  Science  would  have  it  that 
beauty  exists  to  serve  the  ends  of  reproduction,  but 
it  is  rather  reproduction  which  but  subserves  the 
beautiful. 

The  seasons  mark  the  rhythmic  expansion  and 
contraction  of  life — the  outbreathing  and  inbreathing 
of  the  Infinite.  Spring  is  Nature's  darling — the  fair 
one;  her  gentle  admonition  to  the  jaded  world  to 
renew,  forever  to  renew;  to  cast  off  dry  custom  and 
tradition  and  the  sear  and  lifeless  habits  of  thought, 
as  the  tree  its  withered  leaves,  and  to  renew  the  mind 
that  it  may  be  transformed  as  by  a  newer  and  a 
fresher  verdure. 

While  memories  of  falling  snows  and  blustering 
winds  are  fresh  there  comes  a  gentle  south  wind  and 
scatters  flakes  from  the  lap  of  Flora — brings  the 
bloodroot  and  the  shadbush,  and  the  drifts  of  wood- 
anemones.  Red  cherry  and  dogwood  and  viburnums 
come  in  quick  succession;  unbounded  freshness,  un- 
bounded verdure — emerald  and  olive  and  apple. 
There  is  the  green  of  alder  and  willow,  the  green  of 
cherry  and  birch — of  upland  and  lowland,  meadow 
and  swamp.  The  pollen  of  the  pitch  pine  rises  like 
incense  and  the  air  is  heavy  with  its  fragrance.  The 
bursting  buds  of  beech  and  hickory,  the  new  glory 
of  the  red  and  white  oaks,  and  in  the  swamps  the  red 
haze  of  flowering  maples — all  apprize  us  of  solemn 
and  joyful  rites;  the  fete  for  which  the  year  is  a 
preparation,  for  which  there  are  canopies  of  apple 
blossoms,  and  carpets  of  violets  laid. 

Now  should  we  go  into  the  woods  and  fields  and 
listen  to  the  glad  song  of  love.  Great  is  the  sun's 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

love  for  the  earth;  sweet  and  inspiring  the  epithala- 
mium  of  spring,  which  is  written  in  the  language  of 
flowers  in  verses  of  myriad  blossoms;  which  is  sung 
and  chirped  and  croaked  from  every  meadow  and 
every  fence-post,  from  the  roadside  and  the  frog 
pond;  in  the  guttural  croak  of  cuckoos  and  the 
sputter  and  creak  of  the  grackle,  in  the  hoarse  clatter 
of  kingfishers  and  the  cheery  call  of  the  bob-white, 
in  the  sweet  wild  music  of  the  purple  finch  and  the 
tender  lay  of  warbling  vireo,  and  in  the  bobolink's 
joyous  and  irrepressible  jingle;  which  is  evidenced 
in  every  mode  and  rate  of  vibration  throughout  the 
mystic  gamut  of  sound  and  perfume  and  color;  car- 
ried on  beyond  the  highest  note  we  hear,  beyond  the 
violet  of  the  spectrum  and  all  aclinic  rays.  From 
the  first  bluebird's  warble  and  the  opening  chorus  of 
green  frogs,  from  the  coming  of  the  arbutus  and  the 
first  blossom  of  hepatica,  one  theme  divine  there  is. 

Yesterday  the  woods  were  silent;  today  they  are 
merry  with  the  sound  of  many  voices,  and  bright 
with  the  gleam  of  the  green  and  gold,  the  orange 
and  blue  of  migrating  warblers.  It  is  a  wonderful 
invasion  this,  with  its  advance  line  spanning  con- 
tinents; black-throated  and  orange-crowned,  blue- 
winged  and  bay-breasted — they  come,  flitting  from 
tree  to  tree;  wanderers  from  afar  that  travel  over 
land  and  sea,  from  the  Orinoco  to  the  St.  Lawrence, 
and  take  no  thought  but  trust  in  the  Infinite  Love. 

The  sylvan  voice  of  the  kinglet,  subdued  and  liquid 
as  the  sound  of  water  running  underground,  recalls 
faun  and  satyr.  The  clear  whistle  of  the  oriole  and 
the  brave  sweet  notes  of  the  cardinal  rise  from  locust 
and  sycamore  and  are  carried  over  the  mill  pond. 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

It  is  bold  and  free  this  reverie ;  fraught  with  memories 
of  some  Provencal  of  birdland,  and  with  suggestions 
of  the  oleander  and  the  orange,  and  of  the  cherokee 
rose.  There  is  a  darting  flame  among  the  elms; 
there  is  a  flash  of  scarlet  in  the  apple  trees,  and  a 
glance  of  redwings  wheeling  in  the  sunlight. 

From  myriad  throats  ascends  the  morning  hymn 
of  the  birds, — the  measured  and  rhythmical  chant 
of  the  children  of  the  air.  The  great  chorus  rises  and 
falls,  rises  and  falls,  as  it  comes  forth  from  the  heart 
and  throat  of  Nature — her  Pilgrims'  chorus.  Softly 
it  opens  with  the  note  of  the  pewee,  and  is  taken  up 
by  song-sparrows  and  robin,  growing  louder  and 
stronger  with  voices  of  catbird  and  oriole,  until 
swelled  to  majestic  volume  it  ascends  in  superb  hymn 
of  praise,  led  by  the  devotional  song  of  the  wood- 
thrush,  rising  clear  and  sweet  and  instinct  with  the 
spirit  of  worship. 

There  are  pattering  rain-drops  on  the  leaves  and 
shining  drops  upon  the  grass;  there  is  the  sweet  low 
cadence  of  its  ceaseless  falling.  From  sparrow  and 
catbird  comes  a  twittering  and  the  sound  of  ruffling 
plumage  as  they  stroke  and  oil  their  feathers.  There 
is  a  tenderness,  a  great  friendliness  in  these  gentle 
showers  that  conveys  a  certain  note  of  well-being 
and  assurance  to  the  listening  ear.  Here,  again,  is 
Nature's  suggestion  of  renewal  appealing  to  that  con- 
viction common  to  most  men,  that  sometime,  some- 
how, it  shall  be  expedient  to  efface  from  memory 
the  unsightly  scrawls  and  wash  the  mind  clean;  to 
renounce  all  foregone  conclusions,  begin  life  again, 
and  sow  a  new  crop  in  a  virgin  soil ;  to  arise  on  some 
admirable  morning  from  a  transforming  slumber 

[143] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

to  the  realization  of  a  new  day, — a  new  world.  And 
this  is  the  possibility  the  hours  carry  with  them. 

What  if  the  spring  is  backward,  the  sun  has  none 
the  less  reached  his  accustomed  place.  In  due  time 
shall  the  Spirit  illumine  the  bog  of  daily  thought, 
and  in  its  midst  may  appear  the  white-fringed  orchis 
of  the  Soul.  Our  faith,  like  the  aurora  in  this  latitude, 
is  fitful  and  uncertain;  but  we  may  reach  higher 
latitudes  and  dwell  in  purer  regions  of  thought  where 
perchance  it  shall  be  constant.  Welcome  these 
gleams  of  thought  that  play  upon  the  horizon  that 
they  may  kindle  to  a  steady  glow.  The  Spirit  is  ever 
ready  with  its  communications.  In  the  flash  of 
insight  the  Soul  reveals  the  path  of  light;  the  vision 
is  clarified  and  the  whole  being  infused  with  the 
glory  and  sanity  of  the  moment.  Then  only  are  we 
awake.  Every  question  is  answered,  every  doubt  is 
dispelled  in  one  gleam  of  the  Soul.  We  shall  count 
our  hours  of  life  from  one  such  moment  to  another. 
They  are  epochs ;  they  are  the  rings  of  growth  whereby 
we  may  see  how  long  we  have  truly  lived. 

The  twig  grows  and  buds,  supported  by  the  whole 
great  system  of  root  and  branch — earth  and  sun; 
but  cut  off,  it  withers;  and  it  is  for  us  to  draw  from 
that  source  which  is  infinite.  The  heart  beats  and 
the  lungs  expand  without  conscious  effort;  why, 
then,  this  painful  exertion  to  regulate  and  to  map  out 
life?  We  have  but  to  live  in  close  communion  with 
the  source  of  love  and  wisdom  and  our  lives  shall  be 
beautifully  ordered.  The  glare  of  sunlight  is  dear 
to  the  saxifrage,  and  the  goldthread  loves  the  twi- 
light of  the  hemlocks  and  the  society  of  moss  and 
fern.  A  moist  and  sheltered  spot  is  the  haunt  of 

[144] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

groundnut  and  adder's- tongue ;  a  rocky  cleft  is  graced 
by  the  regal  columbine,  and  the  wild  pink  loves  a 
sand  bank.  All  goes  to  show  that  there  is  a  place 
for  each,  a  sphere  of  action,  a  particular  beauty; 
and  to  all  come  influences  beneficent.  The  clover 
waits  for  the  bee  and  the  orchid  for  the  moth.  Not 
he  that  runs  but  he  that  stands  and  lowly  listens 
shall  hear  the  oracle.  Unto  every  soul  would  Nature 
give  her  balm.  To  the  lonely  she  whispers,  " Trust" ; 
to  the  timid,  "Courage."  To  one  she  says,  "Act," 
and  to  another,  "Wait";  while  to  each  and  every 
one  she  whispers,  "Love." 

Why  this  distinction  between  Art  and  Nature? 
Wherein  can  Art  improve  on  Nature,  who  is  herself 
foremost  of  sculptors  and  painters  ?  We  are  accus- 
tomed to  consider  Nature  as  the  actual,  Art  the  ideal, 
where  in  fact  Art  is  but  the  recognition — the  grasping 
and  picturing  of  the  ideal  in  Nature.  Are  there  sun- 
sets on  canvas  such  as  we  have  witnessed  from  our 
windows;  faces  more  majestic  than  we  have  en- 
countered on  the  street  ?  But  Art  is  clear-eyed  and 
discerning  and  grasps  that  which  Utility  fails  to  see. 
We  see  in  Nature  the  compass  of  our  minds ;  we  shall 
measure  her  and  sound  her  that  we  may  determine 
our  own  depth  and  breadth.  He  who  has  discovered 
little  beauty  within  finds  but  little  without;  and  he 
who  has  realized  great  beauty  within,  sees  it  over- 
flowing in  Nature.  And  so  Art  looks  at  Nature  and 
perceives  the  ideal,  and  Utility  looks  and  sees  only 
that  which  will  lift  and  carry,  which  will  produce 
and  multiply — earn  and  increase.  If  a  man  loves  the 
woods  there  is  in  him  something  of  their  sincerity  and 
straightforwardness,  and  if  he  love  the  mountains, 

[145] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

he  retains  somewhat  of  their  grandeur  and  sim- 
plicity; for  we  ever  seek  in  the  world  of  form  what 
best  expresses  the  idea  within  us,  and  by  our  tastes 
and  pursuits  divulge  what  manner  of  man  we  are. 
When  the  mellow  sunshine  has  warmed  the  earth 
and  it  blossoms  forth  in  beauty,  when  the  air  is  red- 
olent with  bayberry  and  sweet-fern  and  the  wild 
rose  is  in  its  glory,  he  who  sits  in  rapt  devotion  and 
ponders  all  this  mystery,  perceives  that  the  Soul  is 
the  cause  ineffable — all  beauty  but  the  effect.  For 
the  sublimity  of  snowy  range,  the  delicacy  of  an 
orchid,  the  soft  radiance  of  an  afternoon  in  spring, — 
all  the  delicacy  and  the  wonder  and  the  harmony  of 
Nature  are  but  the  shadows  of  that  inner  life;  within, 
within — rests  the  sublimity  of  which  these  are  the 
radiant  symbols. 

SUMMER 

The  dog-star  has  faded  from  the  evening  sky  and 
the  dogwood  from  the  hillside  and  the  wood-lot. 
Far  into  the  night  have  the  Pleiades  gone;  into  the 
night  too  have  departed  starflower  and  anemone. 
Orion's  splendor  is  now  a  memory, — a  memory  the 
hum  of  bees  in  the  apple  blossoms,  and  berry  and 
fruit  recall  a  host  of  gentle  flowers.  Out  of  the  twi- 
light comes  Lyra  the  beautiful,  and  Cygnus  lies  over 
the  Milky  Way. 

Wood  roads  are  gay  with  foxgloves  and  starry 
campions,  and  lanes  are  fringed  with  wild  carrot  as 
with  a  border  of  lace  worked  in  flaming  patterns  of 
Black-eyed  Susan  and  vivid  hue  of  milkweeds.  In 
deep  shades  the  black  cohosh  raises  tall  and  ghostlike 
its  white  racemes,  and  the  lovely  meadow  lily  hangs 

[146] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

its  head — fitting  cap  for  elf  and  sprite.  The  salt 
marsh  is  brightening  with  the  roseate  flowers  of 
swamp  mallow — a  flower  garden  in  a  wilderness  of 
cord-grass  and  cat-tails.  Where  blue  flags  not  long 
since  were  blooming,  there  sparkles  now  the  silvery 
leaf  of  jewelweed.  On  the  ponds  are  floating  yellow 
pond-lilies,  and  nymphsea,  the  queenly  water-lily, 
reigns  supreme.  Sundew  and  adder's-mouth  are 
flowering  side  by  side  in  the  cranberry  bogs,  and 
pools  are  fringed  with  pickerel-weed  and  arrow- 
head. Look  for  meadow-sweet  and  hardback  in 
the  pastures,  where  clover  and  mullein  are  inter- 
spersed with  grasses  now  ripe  and  brown,  and  wood- 
lilies  lift  their  petals  above  the  huckleberry  patch. 
Gentle  signs  of  midsummer  these,  of  the  season  of 
fulness  and  completion,  of  repose  and  contempla- 
tion; and  the  white  pine  invites  us  to  sit  beneath  its 
shade  that  it  may  be  to  us  the  bo-tree  of  our  medita- 
tions. 

The  dandelions  have  become  balls  of  down, — 
clusters  of  silken  parachutes  attached  to  as  many 
brown  seeds.  Each  parachute  shall  carry  its  seed 
out  into  the  world;  impelled  by  the  purpose  of  an 
infinite  mind  it  shall  sail  dreamily  away,  over  fence 
and  hedge,  over  road  and  ditch, — now  sailing  high, 
now  skimming  low.  Strong  winds  shall  blow  it, 
gentle  breezes  waft  it,  until  it  floats  quietly  down 
into  some  cool  green  pasture  where  amid  the  red-top 
and  the  sorrel  the  seed  shall  end  its  travels.  There 
the  summer  sun  shall  beat  upon  it;  it  shall  be  cov- 
ered by  the  brown  October  leaves  of  beech  and 
chestnut,  or  perchance  a  maple  leaf  shall  be  its 
canopy  of  red  and  gold.  Deep  beneath  the  snows 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

of  winter  shall  it  lie,  unknown,  forgotten  save  by 
that  One  whose  pulse  within  it  beats.  But  when  the 
frost  leaves  the  ground  and  the  warm  rains  of  spring 
bring  again  the  message  of  life,  the  Eternal  One  shall 
manifest  itself;  the  seed  shall  perish  but  the  Spirit  of 
Life  shall  arise  in  leaf  and  stem  and  blossom,  and 
the  smiling  faces  of  the  dandelions  grace  anew  the 
redtop  and  the  sorrel.  Such  is  the  resurrection  of  a 
flower.  Then  comes  the  young  bumble-bee  trying 
for  the  first  time  his  wings  and  glad  in  his  new  exist- 
ence; burly,  noisy  and  impetuous,  he  bends  low  the 
shining  flowers,  and  deep  within  the  nectar  tubes 
intrudes  his  tongue.  Dusty  with  pollen  he  speeds 
away  on  his  two-fold  mission — the  portentous  buzz- 
ing little  match-maker.  So  are  there  always  dande- 
lions for  little  hands  to  pick,  and  brown  seeds  for 
goldfinches  and  blue  buntings  to  eat,  and  little  silken 
parachutes  to  sail  away  on  the  summer  breeze;  and 
the  One  manifests  eternally — He  whose  name  is  Love. 
In  the  early  summer  the  wild  geranium  blossoms 
in  the  recesses  of  the  woods,  seeking  the  shade  of 
chestnut  and  black  birch  and  tulip  tree;  there  in 
the  haunts  of  the  oven-bird  little  companies  dwell 
together,  living  in  sweet  serenity  their  peaceful  wood 
life  and  hearing  only  distantly  of  the  world  without 
from  the  vireo  or  the  gray  squirrel  overhead.  Sub- 
dued is  the  light  in  these  woodland  haunts;  subdued 
and  gentle  is  the  life  of  these  flowers.  Sheltered  are 
they  from  sun  and  wind,  and  so  they  live  and  pray; 
for  their  lives  are  their  prayers — silent  as  are  all  true 
prayers — but  expressed  in  petal  and  sepal,  in  stamen 
and  pistil,  and  answered  in  pod  and  seed  and  cap- 
sule. Thus  do  prayers  ascend  from  the  sequestered 

[148] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

glens;  and  as  we  watch  the  rose-purple  petals  gently 
falling  to  the  leaf-mould  we  shall  know  they  have 
been  answered. 

Yet  another  company  worships  in  the  depths  of 
the  white-pine  forest.  In  Nature's  own  cathedral 
where  the  straight  trunks  and  arching  branches  are 
as  the  vault  and  pillars  of  a  Gothic  nave  and  choir, 
the  pale  tribe  of  the  Indian  pipes  live  in  silence  and 
devotion,  lighted  by  the  slanting  rays  of  sunlight, 
and  hearing — like  an  organ  sweet  and  low — the 
distant  chanting  of  the  west  wind. 

The  end  of  enchantments  is  not  yet.  There  is  a 
spell  cast  over  every  pasture  where  chirps  a  cricket, 
and  who  walks  there  and  does  not  feel  it  is  a  prince 
of  the  uninspired  and  his  realm  the  commonplace. 
There  is  a  witchery  in  the  twilight,  and  nodding  hare- 
bell is  an  incantation, — the  sweetbrier  a  potent  charm. 
There  is  a  mind  in  vegetable  and  mineral  and  in  the 
humblest  creeping  thing — and  interrelation  between 
all.  Question  the  oak  and  it  will  answer;  deny  it 
speech  and  to  you  it  is  silent. 

Let  us  not  mow  and  shear  and  prune  until  the 
landscape  has  become  a  mush  of  propriety,  and  the 
eye  of  character  finds  nowhere  a  dear  rugged  spot 
on  which  to  rest.  Let  a  man  preserve  his  love  of 
the  wild;  let  him  cherish  the  savage  and  solitary 
aspects — tamarack  swamp,  and  rushing  stream, 
the  granite  dome  rising  above  forest  of  spruce.  So- 
ciety will  never  restore  the  lost  virtues  of  the  savage. 
When  we  can  stand  and  watch  the  black  bear  dis- 
consolate in  his  pitiless  cage,  or  the  eagle  fierce  and 
defiant  in  his  solitary  confinement,  and  feel  no  kin- 
ship, no  regret, — a  virtue  has  surely  gone  from  us. 

[149] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

Let  us  seek  the  stern  companionship  of  the  stars 
which  fails  not,  and  grapple  with  hooks  of  steel  the 
solemn  friendship  of  mountain  range  and  encircling 
ocean.  There  is  poetry  in  the  sky — rich,  varied  and 
endless,  the  immeasurable  Soul  projected  before  us 
and  made  visible;  there  is  sweet  solace  in  the  clouds 
and  jovial  good-fellowship  in  the  tried  and  trusty 
sun. 

The  perpetual  miracle  of  the  fields  shames  the  un- 
necessary and  interpolated  miracle  of  tradition. 
Little  Science  stands  hat  in  hand  before  a  cherry  pit — 
wondering,  puzzled!  Peer  into  a  seed, — the  ma- 
gician's outfit  is  simple;  consider  this  granite, — only 
feldspar  and  the  rest.  But  bring  the  one  to  the  other 
and  a  mighty  witchery  is  let  loose.  Rain  and  frost 
conspire  together  that  clay  shall  be  transmuted  into 
hue  of  poppy  and  the  bloom  of  plum.  Miracles  ? 
Shut  in  the  seedsman's  box  are  waiting  the  squire's 
lawn  and  my  lady's  bower,  the  rich  farm  and  the 
stately  avenue;  a  pansy  bed  in  an  envelope,  a  clover 
field  in  a  quart  measure — and  a  pot  of  honey  to  boot. 
Pass  round  the  measure — the  trick  will  ne'er  be  re- 
vealed. Spade  or  hoe  is  the  magician's  wand.  Such 
is  the  order  of  the  practical  thaumaturgy,  the  whole- 
some witchery  which  operates  for  the  children  of 
men.  A  fakir  and  a  mango  seed,  a  rishi  and  a 
rope — water  turned  to  wine, — what  are  these  to  the 
honest  miracles  of  a  peck  of  corn  made  glistening 
fields;  a  seedlet,  blown  by  the  wind,  become  the  wel- 
come shade  of  village  elm;  a  dainty  egg  become 
fire-bird's  mellow  note? 

Nature  offers  a  liberal  bonus  in  the  furtherance 
of  her  creative  work:  nedlar  for  bee  and  moth  and 

[150] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

butterfly,  and  she  tempts  man  and  bird  with  fruit 
and  berry.  She  wraps  the  seed  in  the  luscious  cov- 
ering of  cherry  and  apple  that  it  may  be  scattered 
abroad  and  new  trees  planted.  But  we  are  not  to 
mistake  for  extravagance  that  which  is  indeed  a 
safety  factor  in  her  calculation  and  incident  to  the 
general  scheme  of  economy — an  economy  that  is  all- 
pervading.  Plant  and  insecl;  serve  each  other: 
every  peculiarity  in  the  structure  of  a  flower  is  adapted 
to  some  insecl;  visitor, — it  shall  fit  the  head  of  a 
bee  or  the  tongue  of  a  moth.  Devices  and  con- 
trivances there  are  without  number  and  of  passing 
ingenuity  to  insure  cross-fertilization  to  the  ends  of 
perfedlion  and  beauty:  neclar,  and  color,  and  frag- 
rance all  for  the  self-same  ends,  and  all  lacking  in 
wind-fertilized  blossoms — for  the  wind  is  indifferent 
to  such  charms.  And  see  how  sumac  and  oak  and 
blackberry  obey  the  summons  of  the  gall-fly  and 
build  for  its  egg  a  house  so  cunningly  contrived  as 
to  expand  and  keep  pace  with  the  maturing  grub, 
and  to  provide  it  food  and  shelter  all  in  one ;  and  the 
spider  will  lay  her  cocoon  of  eggs  in  the  abandoned 
gall,  when  cracked  and  empty  it  hangs  on  a  branch 
of  the  scrub  oak.  The  horsehair  from  the  road  will 
line  chipping  sparrow's  nest;  the  deserted  hole  of 
woodpecker  will  serve  chickadee  or  nuthatch;  and  the 
crumbling  branch  of  the  apple  tree  contents  the 
house-wren  which  from  its  withered  twigs  pours  out 
its  wealth  of  song,  and  in  its  decaying  recesses  rears 
a  family  and  enadls  a  history  which  in  common  with 
greater  ones  knows  joys  and  sorrow,  knows  tender- 
ness and  care — aye,  and  love  and  faith.  Not  a  grain 
of  dust  but  shall  be  molded  and  fashioned  to  forms 

[151] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

of  beauty!  Nature  will  have  no  loss  and  no  waste; 
superbly  she  maintains  her  balance.  An  excess  of 
thistles  brings  a  flock  of  goldfinches  to  devour  the 
seeds  and  restore  the  equilibrium;  kingbird  will  look 
out  for  grasshoppers,  and  oriole  for  canker  worms. 
Vultures,  and  beetles,  and  ants  will  be  her  scavengers. 

On  the  stern  and  rugged  coast  where  the  waves 
forever  meet  the  resistance  of  the  slowly  yielding 
granite,  where  once  were  ancient  dykes — solid  walls 
of  diabase  running  far  into  the  sea — are  sometimes 
left  in  places  but  deep  and  narrow  chasms  into  which 
the  incoming  sea  rushes  with  the  sound  of  far-off 
thunder.  There  the  walls  are  hung  with  rockweed 
and  with  countless  numbers  of  the  rich-hued  sea- 
anemones,  and  the  floors  are  covered  with  Irish  moss, 
and  kelp,  and  branching  sertularia.  Between  tide 
marks,  barnacles  and  mussels  crowd  the  surface  of 
the  brown  and  weathered  granite,  and  in  the  clefts 
and  crannies  of  the  rock  dwell  in  endless  reverie  the 
starfish  and  sea-urchins.  There  unnumbered  whelk 
and  limpets  live  their  nomadic  dream-life,  sometimes 
slipping  down  from  rock  to  rock  and  again  carried 
upward  by  the  tide ;  the  sport  of  wind  and  wave,  they 
live  as  do  those  men  who  believe  in  fate  and  are  the 
trembling  victims  of  a  tyrant  circumstance — nor  yet 
have  learned  to  trust  and  pray. 

O  for  the  sound  of  the  waves  and  the  smell  of  the 
sea, — for  a  sight  of  the  trackless,  glittering,  open 
sea,  which  makes  the  heart  of  youth  beat  faster  and 
the  lungs  expand  their  utmost  with  its  bold  sugges- 
tion of  a  life  of  freedom  and  adventure;  which  casts 
its  potent  spell  upon  the  hardy  mariner  that  has 
thrown  aside  his  charts  and  steered  for  parts  unknown 

[152] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

in  his  search  for  the  golden  fleece  of  truth!  To  him 
it  is  a  calm  and  restful  presence  which  dispels  all 
fractious  thought  and  lulls  to  sleep  the  senses  with 
its  subtle  and  dreamy  cadence,  leaving  the  mind 
quiescent  but  uplifted  and  receptive  to  the  visions 
of  a  higher  life;  it  strikes  from  the  mind  its  shackles 
that  it  may  go  roving,  fearless,  free  to  the  land  of 
pure  and  shining  thought,  of  transcendent  aspira- 
tions, of  great  promise  and  fulfilment:  that  land 
beyond  the  waters  which  is  hidden  to  the  fuddled 
dreams  we  call  our  waking  hours,  but  may  be  seen 
in  high  relief  by  the  mind  in  dreamless  sleep — to  be 
recalled  in  deepest  meditation. 

When  for  the  first  time  we  exclaim  at  some  radiant 
constellation  which  has  nightly  shone  upon  us,  or  at 
the  delicacy  of  some  flower  once  trodden  underfoot, 
then  is  the  first  step  taken  in  the  economy  of  spiritual 
things.  On  the  birth  of  a  thought  the  eye  discloses 
the  heretofore  unseen,  and  we  come  to  reason  that 
seen  and  unseen  may  be  distinctions  without  a  differ- 
ence— may  be  but  the  extremes  of  an  infinite  series; 
that  the  unseen  is  but  the  measure  of  the  defects  of 
our  present  vision,  as  the  so-called  supernatural  is 
but  the  natural  not  yet  comprehended.  The  beauty 
of  the  heavens  and  of  the  flowers  belongs  to  us  only 
as  we  develop  the  capacity  to  enjoy  and  understand 
them;  and  in  the  development  of  spiritual  capacity 
all  things  gravitate  to  us — and  so  shall  be  reclaimed 
the  unseen. 

In  the  darkness  of  the  summer  night  the  fireflies 
gleam  and  glitter  as  they  flit  across  the  background 
of  the  forest;  and  they  dance  upon  the  meadows  to 
the  music  of  the  tree-toads  and  the  crickets, — the 

[153] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

weird  and  mystic  elf -dance  of  the  fireflies.  Like  ships 
that  we  pass  in  the  night,  we  see  only  their  lights, 
as  by  means  invisible  carried,  as  they  flash  upon  us 
and  are  gone  to  an  unknown  destination.  Out  of 
the  night  come  the  fireflies — points  of  light  that 
glimmer  and  vanish;  out  of  the  night  of  the  unknown 
has  come  our  life  to  be  seen  but  for  a  moment  and 
to  disappear.  Where  is  the  mystery  in  this  ?  The 
beetle  continues  its  flight  beyond  our  ken  and  wheels 
again  into  the  field  of  vision.  And  souls  traversing 
the  highways  of  the  universe, — may  they  not  pass 
and  repass  and  wheel  in  and  out  of  the  spiritual 
field  of  vision? 

With  the  power  of  the  Spirit  almost  untried  and 
the  possibilities  of  prayer  as  little  known,  with  the 
inheritance  of  love  still  unclaimed  and  the  ocean  of 
truth  yet  unexplored,  life  is  full  of  an  immensity  of 
purpose.  When  we  live  in  harmony  with  the  soul 
of  Nature,  seeing  what  wealth  of  light  and  air,  of  life 
and  love  are  ours,  we  shall  learn  that  all  efforts  to 
embellish  life  were  futile;  that  We — real  Me — is  com- 
plete in  its  just  measure  of  happiness,  and  the  sense 
of  want  and  incompleteness  but  an  indication  that 
we  do  not  yet  truly  live, — the  goad  of  the  Spirit  to  a 
nobler,  diviner  life. 

AUTUMN 

October  days!  October  days!  These  are  the 
idyllic  days, — the  richest,  ripest,  mellowest  days  of 
all  the  year;  when  the  tupelo  and  dogwood  are  ar- 
rayed in  autumn  colors;  when  the  chestnuts  and  the 
wild  grape  are  waiting  for  the  frost,  and  the  yellow 
pumpkins  glisten  in  the  fields  where  the  corn  is 

[154] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

stacked  for  husking;  when  the  windfalls  of  winter 
apples  lie  rotting  in  the  grass,  and  the  buckwheat 
is  ready  for  the  cradle  and  the  flail.  The  young 
brown  snakes  are  basking  in  the  sandy  roads,  and 
mud-daubers  swarm  about  the  south  windows  in 
search  for  winter  quarters.  The  bee-hunter  liberates 
from  his  box  the  captive  bee  and  follows  its  flight 
with  keen  eye,  as  it  circles  first  above  his  head  and 
then  takes  its  way  straight  to  the  hollow  black  ash 
or  maple  where  is  hid  its  store  of  honey,  gleaned 
early  from  the  clover  and  the  basswood  and  later 
from  buckwheat  and  goldenrod. 

(Hark  to  the  music  of  the  locust  and  the  cricket, 
the  song  of  halcyon  days,  the  song  of  the  triumph  of 
creation:  a  sound  that  proceeds  from  the  hidden 
springs  of  being, — causative,  elemental  in  its  signifi- 
cance. Now  shall  we  sit  in  the  golden  light,  the  gentle 
effulgence  of  the  autumn  day;  feeling  the  spell  of 
that  wondrous  light  which  irradiates  the  inner  re- 
cesses of  the  mind  and  starts  a  train  of  ecstatic 
thought,  which  holds  the  attention  to  what  is  real; 
now  pass  through  the  gateway  of  the  seeming  out 
into  the  sublime  and  enduring  real.  All  nature  is 
full  of  the  suggestion  of  that  somewhat  finer  higher 
life  which  is  not  distant  in  time  nor  space,  nor  sep- 
arate from  this  present  seeming  life,  but  inherent 
in  it  as  its  essential  and  highest  quality, — as  cream 
is  distributed  sometime  to  rise  and  become  the  best 
value  of  the  milk. 

A  vast  complexity  of  relationship  devolves  upon 
creation  through  the  necessity  for  food;  there  is  no 
form,  high  nor  low,  but  is  food  for  some  other, — 
worm  for  bird,  bird  for  man,  man  for  worm.  Creation 

[155] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

moves  in  cycles,  and  the  progress  of  life  seems  a 
vast  phantasmagoria.  But  the  light  of  the  Spirit 
dissolves  all  this  mystery  as  the  sun  dispels  the  mist, 
for  it  is  in  the  Spirit  that  all  creatures  have  their  life. 
There  is  no  death  and  no  decay,  only  ceaseless  mu- 
tation of  one  form  into  another;  and  back  of  name 
and  form,  back  of  all  that  is  apparent  to  the  senses 
is  the  One — formless,  changeless,  eternal! 

Into  this  world  of  form  has  descended  the  soul  of 
man:  man  the  epitome  of  evolution,  the  acme  of 
concentration,  the  summary  of  creation — himself  a 
creator.  Behold  that  which  was  once  reptile,  rodent, 
inse6t;  which  was  once  four-footed  and  ate  grass,  or 
crouched  in  the  jungle  and  sprang  upon  its  prey, 
now  walking  ere6t  and  looking  to  the  heavens — a 
soul  incarnate,  yet  clothed  in  the  form  of  a  thousand 
thousand  savage  progenitors,  and  holding  still  a 
relation  to  all  creatures  that  is  intimate  and  vital. 
It  has  been  said  that  every  animal  represents  some 
quality  in  human  nature  or  rather  that  human  nature 
embodies  all  of  these;  and  it  would  seem  that  the 
disappearance  of  the  lower  and  the  dominion  of  the 
higher  types  is  coincident  with  the  evolution  of  the 
mind  from  its  lower  and  baser  qualities.  There  are 
hawks  and  doves,  there  are  lions  and  lambs — and 
apes,  among  men;  more  than  this,  a  man  shall  find 
the  wolf  and  the  sheep,  the  fox  and  the  crow  in  his 
own  nature.  Man,  who  has  evolved  from  language, 
literatures, — from  thought,  philosophies;  the  his- 
torian of  his  fellow  creatures  and  the  biographer  of 
races  that  perished  before  he  was  known  upon  the 
earth;  he  who  has  intuition  where  they  have  instindl, 
free-will  where  they  observe  necessity, — shall  he  not 

[156] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

elecl;  a  higher  course  than  is  prescribed  for  his  humble 
brethren?  Shall  his  ethics  stop  short  of  the  cow 
and  the  sheep,  that  he  should  slaughter  the  one  which 
gives  him  milk,  the  other  which  provides  him  clothes  ? 

This  ant  which  we  crush  underfoot, — in  that 
minute  thorax  works  a  marvelous  mechanism,  in 
those  tiny  limbs  is  a  strength  Herculean;  that  Lilli- 
putian brain  is  the  seat  of  an  intelligence  differing 
from  man's  only  in  degree.  There  it  crawls — the 
atom:  one  of  a  community  living  according  to  a  sys- 
tem and  performing  with  tireless  persistence  its  ap- 
pointed duties;  wise  enough  to  work  with  reference 
to  a  plan,  to  build  its  domicile,  to  communicate  with 
its  fellows;  unwise  enough  to  hold  slaves,  and  suffer- 
ing the  inevitable  consequences:  a  black  speck — 
the  living  repository  of  a  mystery  that  lies  beyond  all 
science — an  atom  capable  of  some  thought — a 
miracle  of  miracles. 

Because  we  have  loved  the  wolf's  brother,  from  a 
snarling,  howling,  savage  beast  lurking  in  caves  and 
in  the  forest,  he  has  come  to  be  our  companion — 
faithful,  noble,  gentle,  true;  ready  to  serve  us;  lav- 
ishing his  affection  upon  us;  giving  his  life  for  us; 
pining  and  refusing  consolation  when  separated  from 
us.  Look  into  the  beautiful  eyes  of  a  noble  dog  and 
you  will  feel  that  there  too  do  you  perceive  the  inti- 
mations of  the  Soul ;  and  this  which  is  true  of  the  dog 
is  true  in  a  degree  of  all  creatures — if  they  could 
have  but  half  a  chance.  This  collie,  sensitive  as  a 
child,  of  unerring  and  delicate  instinct,  superior  in 
intelligence  to  many  illiterate  men,  superior  in  kind- 
ness to  some  scholarly  men,  capable  of  communicat- 
ing important  things  in  his  own  peculiar  language, — 

[157] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

what  would  he  be  had  he  been  hunted  like  the 
fox? 

O  the  downtrodden  people  of  the  forests  and  the 
prairies !  O  the  hunted  people  of  the  mountains  and 
the  streams!  Farewell  to  the  buffalo  and  the  moose; 
farewell  to  the  wild  pigeon  and  the  heron!  There 
is  left  a  great  array  of  foes  where  might  be  friends; 
and  this  the  commentary  on  man's  ruthlessness. 
But  see  the  fine  working  of  the  law:  not  with  impunity 
shall  he  thus  devastate;  an  eye  for  an  eye.  Unto  the 
destroyer  passes  the  burden  of  fear.  He  that  de- 
stroys what  he  cannot  replace,  destroys  therewith 
the  finer  workings  of  his  own  nature,  and  benumbs 
those  sensibilities  which  alone  made  him  susceptible 
of  a  higher  development.  He  trembles  who  caused 
the  innocent  to  tremble;  he  is  fearful  who  made  the 
defenseless  to  fear. 

The  host  of  the  innocent  cry  aloud;  they  petition 
us  incessantly.  To  lie  in  ambush  and  shoot  a  de- 
fenseless creature  is  a  dastard's  deed.  O  hunter, 
the  tongue  that  might  have  licked  your  hand  hangs 
from  the  mouth;  the  eyes  that  would  have  looked 
affection  from  their  clear  depths  have  appealed  in 
vain  for  mercy — despite  their  superb  eloquence;  the 
heart  that  once  felt  the  pulsations  of  a  strong  life, 
that  cherished  affections  similar  to  your  own — but 
which  knew  not  the  strife  and  hate  of  your  own — 
has  ceased!  The  gentle  life  has  gone,  whither  you 
fear  to  go — taking  with  it  what  was  noble,  bequeath- 
ing to  you  what  was  brutish.  You  have  seen  Nature 
through  the  sights  of  a  rifle  and  she  in  turn  has  taken 
your  peace  of  mind  with  the  phantoms  of  the  air. 
The  giant  of  the  forest  has  quailed  before  you,  and 

[158] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

you,  manikin,  tremble  at  the  pigmies  of  the  micro- 
scope. You  have  given  your  measure  of  anguish  to 
the  denizen  of  the  woods,  and  it  is  meted  to  you 
again;  you  have  taken  her  cubs  from  the  bear,  and 
your  children  are  taken  from  you;  you  have  denied 
the  oneness  of  all  life,  and  you  are  riding  the  night- 
mare of  death.  You  have  played  the  tyrant,  and  you 
are  confronted  by  the  inscrutable. 

Though  the  birds  are  silent,  yet  is  their  silence  elo- 
quent; though  they  do  not  sing,  still  they  are  implor- 
ing. Up  from  the  marshes  and  the  fens,  from  the 
salt  marshes  and  the  bayous,  from  the  woodland 
and  the  pasture,  from  the  clearing  and  the  coppice 
comes  the  plaint  of  these  little  martyrs, — the  martyrs 
whose  woes  are  all  but  unrecorded,  whose  sufferings 
are  almost  unnoticed;  who  die  innocent  of  all  but 
beauty. 

The  little  ones,  the  frail  ones,  the  spirits  of  the  air 
appeal  to  the  women;  to  whatsoever  in  them  is 
womanly,  to  whatsoever  in  them  is  motherly,  to  all 
gentleness,  to  all  tenderness,  to  all  that  is  human,  to 
all  that  is  divine;  beseeching  that  they  may  live  in 
peace  and  be  unmolested.  Imploring  pity!  Implor- 
ing mercy!  Imploring  justice!  We  serve  you  and 
you  spurn  us;  we  cheer  you  and  you  deny  us;  we  love 
you  and  you  kill  us.  You  who  profess  a  religion 
that  is  based  on  love,  is  there  in  your  hearts  no  love 
for  us?  You  who  ask  favors  of  Him  who  made  us 
all,  will  you  not  grant  us  then  our  lives  ?  You  who 
love,  you  who  suffer,  can  you  not  feel  for  us  who  do 
the  same?  You  who  bring  forth  children,  cherish 
them,  work  for  them;  is  it  nothing  that  we  too  make 
our  homes  and  tenderly  care  for  our  little  ones  ? 

[159] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

When  you  bend  beneath  the  burden  of  some  fresh 
sorrow,  then  think  of  us  who  suffer  at  your  hands. 
When  you  are  elated  with  some  new  joy  and  would 
express  your  gratitude,  then  say  a  word  for  us.  You 
who  have  but  loving  tenderness  for  your  husbands 
and  your  brothers,  remember  us — your  little  brothers. 

We  see  you  upon  the  streets  and  in  the  churches; 
we  see  you  praying  for  the  dying,  and  upon  your  hats 
we  see  the  corpses  of  our  nestlings  and  our  mates. 
Long  have  you  been  insensible  to  us;  now  listen  to 
the  truth.  We  are  the  messengers  of  peace  and  the 
symbols  of  the  Spirit.  Whenever  you  sacrifice  us 
you  surrender  your  nobleness  to  your  vanity;  when- 
ever you  deny  us  freedom  you  thereby  enslave  your- 
selves. For  the  cruelty  you  show  us  you  suffer  the 
tyranny  of  your  unconquered  selves ;  for  your  thought- 
lessness toward  us  you  remain  unthinking  to  your 
own  higher  interests;  for  the  proffered  love  which 
you  reject  you  shall  one  day  pray  in  sorrow.  You 
have  been  deaf  to  our  plea  but  you  must  hear  us; 
we  are  calling — ever  calling  to  you  to  awaken  from 
your  dream;  we  exhort  you  to  be  true  to  what  is  best 
within  you,  true  to  what  is  merciful  and  what  is  just, 
true  to  what  is  womanly  and  what  is  noble. 

The  intelligence  which  is  around  and  within  us 
inspires  us  to  speak  the  truth  to  you,  to  tell  you  that 
without  love  there  can  be  no  true  art;  for  what  does 
not  spring  from  love  is  not  art  but  gross  deformity. 
If  we  are  beautiful  it  is  because  of  the  spirit  of  life 
which  animates  us;  and  when  you  sever  that  thread 
there  is  naught  left  to  you  of  beauty,  but  only  the 
deserted  temple,  the  token  of  your  desecration.  When 
you  would  decorate  yourselves  with  the  bodies  of 

[160] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

your  victims  you  revert  to  what  is  barbarous;  you 
become  as  the  untutored  savage  with  his  crude  and 
horrid  ornaments.  The  clothes  bespeak  the  woman 
and  her  degree  of  cultivation;  we  would  have  you 
stand  for  culture  and  what  is  refined  in  art  and  life; 
we  would  have  you  dress  as  becomes  the  mothers  of 
a  noble  race. 

We  look  to  you  for  the  courage  of  right  conviction 
to  defy  an  ignoble  fashion  and  express  simplicity 
and  truth  in  dress, — to  stand  for  us  the  oppressed, 
the  hunted  children  of  the  air.  And  we  would  have 
you  impress  upon  your  children  how  noble  a  thing 
is  love,  how  grand  a  thing  it  is  to  be  kind  to  all  that 
live. 

Thus  do  we  speak  in  mournful  yet  trusting  accents 
to  the  loving  hearts  of  all  true  women,  asking  that 
we  be  kept  no  longer  without  the  pale  of  your  ethics 
and  religion,  asking  that  in  your  hearts  you  make  a 
place  for  us — your  little  brothers. 


For  once  may  we  throw  appearance  and  deceits  to 
the  winds  and  learn  the  worth  of  simplicity,  the 
solemn  joy,  the  relief  of  being  natural;  stand  erec"l 
under  the  pines  and  thank  God  for  a  breath  of  moun- 
tain air;  stoop  by  the  brook  and  be  grateful  for  a 
drink  of  cold  water, — cold  water  for  which  were  it 
taken  away  we  would  sell  everything,  give  years, 
money,  jewels  for  a  cupful,  when  Hock  and  Burgundy 
would  be  as  gall  and  wormwood, — cold  water  which 
is  priceless  and  which  is  free.  For  one  brief  season 
may  we  forget  what  we  have  and  what  we've  bought, — 
we  the  lotus-eaters  lost  to  the  memory  of  a  false 

[161] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

environment;  be  free  of  the  encumbrance  of  luxuries 
and  possessions  and  go  into  the  Odlober  woods  there 
to  be  seated  in  amity  with  our  kinsmen,  the  partridge 
and  the  quail,  the  gray  squirrel  and  the  bluejay, 
and  be  even  as  they — without  pretense.  There  shall 
we  sit  in  the  wise  company  of  the  chipmunk  and  the 
woodchuck  and  with  them  partake  of  what  is  free. 
The  table  shall  be  garnished  with  berries,  red,  white, 
black  and  mottled — dwarf  cornel  and  baneberry, 
maianthemum  and  false  Solomon Vseal;  and  hung 
round  with  garlands  of  woodbine  and  bittersweet. 
The  cloth  shall  be  worked  in  rare  designs  with  the 
gray-green  fronds  of  sticta  and  parmelia  and  the 
bright  green  of  hairy  cap,  and  feathery  mosses,  in- 
terspersed with  cladonias'  scarlet  fruiting  cups,  and 
through  all  a  delicate  tracery  of  partridge  vine  and 
fronds  of  polypodia.  We  shall  feast  on  green  russula, 
shaggymane  and  oyster  mushrooms,  and  shall  be 
regaled  with  butternuts  and  hazel,  chestnut  and 
hickory;  there  shall  be  wild  grapes  and  wild  red 
raspberries  more  delicate  than  ever  hothouse  knew. 
There  shall  be  wafted  to  us  odors  more  than  savory, 
aye,  exhilarating;  odors  of  sweetbrier  and  myrtle, 
the  spicy  aroma  of  green  butternuts  and  the  whole- 
some resinous  fragrance  of  balsam,  of  spruce  and 
hemlock.  There  shall  be  flavors  and  seasoning  fit 
for  any  woodman's  palate :  sassafras  and  wintergreen, 
wild  ginger  and  cherry  birch.  We  shall  listen  to  the 
tapping  of  the  downy  woodpecker  and  the  cry  of  the 
red-shouldered  hawk;  be  soothed  by  the  rustling  of 
the  leaves  and  the  voices  of  the  woods. 

Along  the  rocky  shores  and  all  the  country  road- 
sides gleams  the  purple  and  the  gold  of  goldenrod 

[162] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

and  asters.  It  is  the  fringe  of  the  autumn  mantle, 
the  garment  of  brilliant  colors;  on  the  oaks  it  lies  in 
brown  and  scarlet,  on  the  beeches  glistens  yellow, 
from  the  maples  flashes  crimson.  It  is  the  work  of 
the  Great  Colorist  who  now  works  in  emerald,  azure, 
Tyrian,  and  again  transforms  all  verdure  with  a 
sweep  of  his  magic  brush  and  clothes  with  a  great 
beauty  the  lowly  shrub  and  vine,  and  makes  glorious 
the  hobble-bush  and  huckleberry.  It  is  no  fable  that 
the  Lord  speaks  from  the  burning-bush. 

This  is  the  old  age  of  the  leaves ;  venerable,  majestic, 
reflecting  the  dignity  of  a  life  of  beauty  and  of  useful- 
ness, they  prepare  for  the  return  to  the  mother  world. 
In  obedience  to  a  silent  command  they  appeared  and 
spread  over  the  earth — a  tide  of  green  setting  to  the 
north;  and  now  they  as  silently  retire — a  sea  of  gold. 
In  a  scarlet  and  crimson  and  golden  glory  is  written 
the  classic  of  autumn,  the  requiem  of  the  leaves.  It 
is  written  in  the  burning  notes  of  color, — color  which 
plays  upon  the  emotions  like  music;  color  which  is  as 
psychical  as  the  harmonies  of  sound.  They  have 
performed  their  Herculean  labors;  they  have  fed 
the  forest;  they  have  clothed  the  earth.  Behold  them 
resplendent  in  their  age,  clothed  with  the  majesty  of 
the  sun — transfigured!  And  we,  when  our  retreat  is 
sounded,  shall  not  we  reflecl;  the  glory  of  a  noble  de- 
parture; shall  not  we  likewise  become  radiant, — be 
transfigured  ? 

Like  some  of  her  children,  Nature  hybernates;  no 
sooner  asleep  than  she  dreams  a  dream,  and  they 
who  watch  her  asleep  and  dreaming  say  it  is  now  the 
Indian  summer.  Perhaps  the  essence  of  the  tobacco- 
plant  pervades  her  slumbers;  perchance  there  are 

[168] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

poppies  in  her  dream.  The  brilliant  company  of  the 
sumacs  are  to  her  a  band  of  warriors,  gaily  decked 
in  paint  and  feathers.  Around  the  sagamore  sit  the 
old  men  and  in  silence  smoke  the  peace-pipe.  From 
the  wigwams  the  smoke  ascends  in  the  soft  and 
balmy  air — curling  upward  in  thin  blue  lines.  She 
dreams  of  youth,  of  bees  and  flowers,  and  hears  again 
the  love-songs  of  the  birds;  listens  to  the  trilling  of 
the  wren  and  kinglet;  listens  to  the  warbling  vireo 
and  the  drumming  of  the  partridge;  listens  to  the 
love-notes  of  the  wood-thrush  and  the  robin.  Obed- 
ient to  the  spell  of  this  fair  dream  the  little  breeze 
comes  joyfully  back;  looks  for  youth  and  finds  but 
age;  looks  for  its  playmates,  the  columbines  and  bell- 
worts,  and  finds  but  yellow  blossoms  of  witchhazel 
and  here  and  there  a  gentian.  It  wonders  at  the 
silent  bands  of  myrtle  birds  and  juncos,  and  the 
flocks  of  white-throat  sparrows;  sees  how  the  white 
oaks  have  drawn  around  them  their  mantles  of 
brown  and  withered  leaves,  and  shrinks  away 
abashed;  whispers  to  the  gray  squirrel  as  he  throws 
aside  the  rustling  leaves,  but  he  heeds  not,  for  he  is 
busy  planting  forests. 

WINTER 

It  comes!  The  snow!  The  invasion  of  a  dazzling 
host;  the  silent  onslaught  of  the  children  of  cold! 
Whirling,  driving,  twisting,  it  descends  upon  us  from 
the  upper  regions  of  the  air, — charging  in  a  sinuous 
wavy  advance.  Rushing  forward,  careering  onward, 
comes  the  gay,  mad,  swirling  charge  of  the  mimic 
fairy  foemen.  Maneuvering  in  battalions,  massing 
in  phalanx, — gyrating,  impetuous,  resistless, — the 

[164] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

array  of  crystal  beauty  is  launched  upon  us;  and 
who  would  not  invite  this  superb  charge,  this  shining 
foray  of  the  beautiful?  Out  from  the  glittering 
hordes  now  and  again  is  one  detached;  bereft  of  the 
frenzied  impetus  of  the  swirling  masses  and  left  to 
settle  gently  down  upon  the  coat  sleeve,  the  fairest, 
purest  crystal  midget,  an  infinitesimal  jot  of  the  vast 
elemental  invested  for  the  moment  with  divine  form, 
a  tiny  marvel  claiming  our  admiration.  It  lingers 
for  an  instant,  and  there  is  left  but  a  trace  of  mois- 
ture; the  investiture  of  graceful  form,  the  chef  d'ceuvre 
of  miniature  loveliness,  eludes  us  and  is  gone. 

Lo,  the  soft  enchantment  of  the  snow;  a  world  in 
white,  a  fairy  scene  of  bending  boughs  and  gleaming 
bowers.  Every  twig  of  birch  and  alder  is  incrusted 
with  the  clinging  snow,  and  it  lies  heavy  on  drooping 
branches  of  white  pine  and  spruce.  Silently  and 
wonderfully  is  the  earth  transformed;  she  has  donned 
her  radiant  garments  of  light.  The  hemlock  assumes 
the  ermine  and  is  majestic  in  its  robes,  and  oak  and 
maple  acquire  a  new  dignity.  The  snow-fleas  come 
to  leap  upon  the  snow,  arising  like  fabled  warriors 
from  dragon's  teeth,  and  whirling  flocks  of  snow- 
birds drive  free  before  the  wind. 

Blessed  be  the  stillness  of  the  winter  day,  where 
silence  reigns  supreme.  Frozen  are  the  ponds  and 
rivers,  and  the  fields  lie  hidden  beneath  the  drifted 
snow.  A  fall  of  temperature  works  miracles;  con- 
geals what  was  fluid;  petrifies  soil  and  loam,  and 
traces  on  window  panes  its  cherished  arboreal  de- 
signs, spreading  with  lavish  hand  in  graceful  in- 
florescence, panicles  and  racemes  of  glittering  frost- 
work. It  spreads  over  country  roads  a  polished  layer 

[165] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

of  ice,  galvanizing  into  life  the  frozen  particles  and 
investing  them  with  the  pitch  and  timbre  peculiar  to 
intense  cold  so  that  they  respond  in  shrill  and  resonant 
protest  to  the  runners  of  swift-passing  sleighs. 

As  summer  is  the  season  of  contemplation  so  is 
winter  the  time  of  brisk  thought,  brisk  action.  No 
longer  are  we  to  stroll  by  the  wayside,  no  more  to 
sit  in  rapt  meditation;  but  to  leave  the  cheer  and 
comfort  of  the  hearth  and  plunge  into  the  gelid  world 
without, — meeting  with  joy  the  bleak  and  bitter 
north  winds;  to  run  nimbly  over  the  frozen  crust 
rejoicing  in  the  possession  of  an  immense  and 
buoyant  vigor,  of  an  energy  that  stops  at  nothing, — 
a  will  that  dares  bid  the  timid  sun  stand  in  his  course; 
to  leave  the  outskirts  of  the  town  and  stride  into  the 
solitude  of  the  winter  woods  and  fields.  The  earth 
is  muffled,  mute  in  its  mantle  of  snow  and  ice,  and 
traverses  in  sublime  silence  its  wintry  way;  carrying 
faint  suggestions  of  that  long  glacial  winter  which 
covered  hill  and  valley  beneath  a  polar  ice-cap  until 
forced  by  a  more  genial  sun  to  its  arctic  lair.  But 
today  the  uncovered  ledges  tell  their  story, — tell  it 
like  old  men  with  whom  the  past  is  ever  present; 
who  walk  with  tottering  footsteps  the  ground  they 
once  trod  so  firmly,  and  pause  with  bending  head 
where  once  they  skipped  so  lightly;  old  men  who 
stop  one  on  the  highroad  to  tell  of  scenes  long  past, 
of  children  long  since  departed.  So  speak  the  ledges 
to  all  who  heed  them;  telling  of  the  great  ice  sheet, 
how  it  shaped  and  hewed  the  roches  moutonnees,  how 
it  scored  and  grooved  their  faces,  how  it  carried 
boulders  and  spread  them  upon  the  land  and  heaped 
in  vast  confusion  terminal  moraines  and  drumlins; 

[166] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

telling  of  the  crevasses  and  the  torrents,  of  the 
whirling  stones  and  pot-holes. 

A  little  eccentricity  in  the  earth's  orbit,  a  little 
wobbling  on  its  axis,  and  the  wall  of  ice  crept  south- 
ward, slowly  following  the  retreating  sun,  driving 
before  it  mammoth  and  sequoia  and  burying  forest 
and  woodland  furlongs  deep  under  a  limitless  ex- 
panse of  ice.  A  little  irregularity  in  the  orbit  of 
human  life,  a  slight  wobbling  on  the  axis  of  the  will, 
and  an  aphelion  winter  brings  a  glacial  climate  upon 
man's  Me  and  buries  the  heart  beneath  the  drifts  of 
frigid  thought.  There  are  glacial  periods  in  the  lives 
of  men  when  they  are  cheerless  and  desolate  to  look 
upon.  But  there  shall  come  perihelion  winters,  and 
the  earth  shall  resume  its  verdure  and  life  its  love. 
The  genial  warmth  of  the  human  heart  shall  defy 
the  ice-barriers  of  the  frozen  north,  bid  an  ice  sheet 
retreat,  and  command  the  boreal  winds  that  they 
blow  gently;  for  not  all  the  ice-floes  of  the  human 
mind  can  withstand  the  benign  influence  of  a  loving 
heart. 

A  hush  and  stillness  has  settled  over  all;  the  woods 
are  silent  but  for  the  faint  crackling  sound  of  opening 
cones  as  a  flock  of  crossbills  extract  their  seeds,  or 
the  music  of  the  axe,  exulting  as  it  cleaves  its  way 
to  the  heart  of  a  noble  forest  tree,  until  the  giant 
quivers  throughout  its  length,  leans  a  little,  then 
leaps  to  meet  its  death  and  falls  with  one  reverberat- 
ing crash.  Then  die  the  echoes,  and  silence  reigns 
again. 

In  the  somber  sky  looms  a  pallid  sun  but  feebly 
lighting  the  brief  winter  day,  and  suffusing  with  pale 
yellow  and  rose  and  violet  the  snowy  landscape.  The 

[167] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

leafless  branches  of  the  elms  form  delicate  traceries 
against  the  wintry  sky,  waving  their  skeleton  fingers 
to  and  fro  in  the  chilly  wind,  and  the  oriole's  nest 
filled  with  snow  looks  disconsolate  as  any  deserted 
house.  Stone  walls  lie  half  buried,  and  bayberries 
just  protrude  above  the  drifts,  where  the  taller 
grasses  scatter  their  remaining  seeds  to  be  gleaned 
by  industrious  redpolls.  In  the  revealing  snow, 
mink's  track  follows  partridge,  and  fox  pursues  the 
rabbit.  Here  the  fox  loped  easily,  keeping  well  to 
leeward;  here  a  mink  took  his  circuitous  route,  a 
skunk  his  leisurely  way,  or  a  crow  alighted  in  the 
snow  leaving  sharp  tracks  of  claws  and  drooping 
wings  or  tail.  The  snow  reveals  the  presence  of  a 
community  at  our  very  elbows;  prowlers  in  the  night 
and  lovers  of  the  early  dawn;  holders  of  midnight 
revels  in  the  snow,  and  like  childhood's  fairies  van- 
ishing at  the  approach  of  day. 

Nature  will  have  none  of  your  faint-hearted  wooers ; 
she  has  little  respecT;  for  the  wearers  of  mufflers  and 
blue  goggles.  She  likes  well  to  be  taken  by  storm 
and  is  meekness  itself  to  the  rugged  and  uncom- 
promising. She  loves  those  who  face  the  storm  from 
preference  and  accords  them  a  rude  joy  in  it;  wel- 
comes the  bold  swimmer  and  the  hardy  mountaineer 
and  gives  them  endurance  and  hardihood.  She 
would  have  eye  of  hawk,  sinew  of  antelope,  endur- 
ance of  wild  goose  and  speed  of  darting  trout.  To 
be  able  to  lie  in  the  snow  and  sleep,  to  break  the  ice 
on  the  pond  and  bathe, — these  are  rugged  virtues 
well  esteemed.  She  exacts  of  her  votaries  deep 
chests,  keen  eyes,  supple  and  sinewy  limbs;  likes 
them  sure-footed,  tan-faced  and  ruddy.  Always  she 

[  168  ] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

rejoices  at  the  advent  of  an  observant  mind — recep- 
tive, alert,  intuitive,  to  which  she  may  reveal  her 
secrets;  the  imaginative  and  sympathetic  mind  that 
will  "hole  up"  with  the  woodchuck  and  swim  under 
ice  with  muskrat,  or  with  the  field-mouse  traverse 
its  runways  in  the  snow,  or  hanging  head  downward, 
there  with  the  chickadees  cheerfully  glean  the  eggs  of 
insects.  You  shall  be  for  the  nonce  woodchuck, 
muskrat  and  chickadee,  you  shall  prowl  with  the  red 
fox,  and  return  unerringly  to  buried  acorns  with  the 
gray  squirrel  if  you  would  penetrate  the  arcana  of 
nature.  Upon  some  barren  rock  in  the  desolate 
expanse  of  ocean,  there  shall  you  sit  in  solitary 
grandeur  with  the  albatross,  calm  and  self-reliant; 
there  to  unfold  the  mighty  wings  and  without  prep- 
aration, without  possessions — with  only  courage,  to 
launch  out  into  limitless  solitudes,  superior  to  cold 
and  fatigue,  superior  to  wind  and  wave,  contemptuous 
of  all  exterior  forces — dauntless!  Where  maddened 
waves  are  lashed  to  fury  by  the  gale  and  the  hissing 
spray  is  blown  in  sheets  over  the  seething  waters, 
there  with  kittiwake  and  petrel  shall  you  sail  with 
airy  grace.  To  range  back  of  the  winds,  to  be  present 
at  the  birth  of  a  snowflake,  and  to  perform  its 
cyclic  journey  with  a  rain-drop, — passing  from  the 
visible  to  the  invisible,  and  returning, — to  proceed 
with  the  hybernating  bear  to  where  it  dwells  in 
thought  while  the  shaggy  body  lies  dormant  and  well 
inclosed  in  rock  and  ice;  to  enter  the  winter  buds  of 
shellbark  and  pignut  and  there  await  with  the  spirit 
of  life  the  appointed  time  to  a  61;  or  within  the  acorn 
beneath  the  snow,  to  be  present  when  the  fiat  comes 
to  put  out  root  and  stem,  to  behold  the  elements 

[169] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

rushing  to  support  the  new  tree  and  to  overhear 
the  sun's  first  greeting  to  the  young  leaves ;  to  preside 
cheerily  over  the  bogs  with  the  red  winter  berries, 
and  to  have  a  hand  in  all  that  takes  place,  observing 
the  pitcher-plant,  each  well-turned  pitcher  filled  to 
the  brim  and  frozen  solid, — and  the  spears  of  skunk- 
cabbage  already  up  and  waiting  beneath  the  snow; 
to  enter  the  vast  round  of  life  with  an  elementary 
atom  and  to  be  built  up  successively  in  the  forms  of 
mineral,  vegetable  and  animal,  subject  to  endless 
transmutations :  to  be  thus  intimate  with  Nature  is  to 
perceive  that  life,  energy,  power  are  infinite;  that  the 
vast  elemental  lies  at  the  command  of  the  Spirit,— 
shall  obey  the  spirit  in  man  and  ever  awaits  his 
recognition,  and  at  its  fiat  oxygen,  hydrogen,  carbon, 
phosphorus  are  forthcoming  and  fall  into  place, 
building  according,  to  the  divine  pattern. 

Nature  repays  richly  this  sympathy.  You  shall 
have  no  fear  of  air  or  water,  ice  or  snow,  heat  or  cold, 
and  all  her  aspects  shall  be  friendly  to  you.  January 
thaw  and  March  winds  shall  be  rich  for  you  in 
thought;  and  the  gale  music  to  your  ears,  and  the 
stinging  sleet  a  caress,  and  leaden  skies  an  inspira- 
tion. For  there  is  never  a  dreary  day,  but  dreary 
minds  only;  never  a  dull  one,  but  dull  perception 
and  dull  eyes  merely  that  can  thus  stigmatize  the 
joyous  day.  No  fog  can  obscure  the  sunshine  of  a 
cheerful  mind ;  no  rains  dampen  the  ardor  of  a  brave 
soul.  To  the  sane  mind  all  weather  is  good,  all  days 
are  bright.  Health!  immortal  health,  she  confers 
upon  her  favorites,  that  they  may  be  sturdy  as  the 
pitch  pine  and  the  scrub  oak,  and  self-contained  as 
the  chickadee  which  knows  not  repining  nor  what 

[170] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

is  dejection.  Go  with  Nature  and  all  winds  shall 
blow  you  fair,  and  gneiss  and  granite  shall  be  soft 
to  lie  upon,  and  the  snow  warm,  and  the  skies  a 
sufficient  covering  for  your  head.  You  shall  run 
exulting  on  the  beach,  swim  the  river  like  an  otter, 
and  swing  at  ease  in  the  tree  tops,  at  home  with  the 
flying  squirrel.  The  immeasurable  health  and  vi- 
tality of  nature  shall  flow  in  your  veins,  and  you  shall 
reflect  that  infinitude  of  repose  which  makes  action 
tireless  and  thought  endless;  for  it  is  not  in  Nature 
to  fret  nor  fume,  nor  does  she  know  stress  nor  strain, 
but  bides  her  time,  enacting  with  measured  and  con- 
scious power.  But  to  the  unsympathetic  she  seems 
a  cold  mother,  refusing  to  nurse  her  own  child;  and 
they  shiver  with  the  blast  and  live  fearful  of  wind 
and  water  who  cross  her  purpose. 

We  malign  Nature  with  our  saws  and  our  laws. 
How  often  do  we  write  Beware,  and  Caution,  and 
with  what  constancy  tiptoe  the  earth  and  dodge  the 
danger  signals  of  our  fertile  imagining!  Will  our 
good  mother  devour  us  then ;  does  she  fatten  us  with 
dainties,  pamper  us  with  sunshine,  gladden  us  with 
flowers  that  we  may  be  the  more  tender  ?  Fie  upon 
us  that  we  can  think  so  meanly.  If  we  are  so  un- 
gracious that  we  must  inquire  if  the  order  of  nature 
be  beneficent,  let  us  ask,  then,  why  is  the  earth  not 
enveloped  in  fetid  gases  rather  than  pure  air;  why 
does  it  not  rain  frogs;  why  do  not  monstrous  things 
grow  on  trees,  rather  than  fair  fruit,  or  the  sun  play 
truant  and  leave  us  in  darkness  to  pursue  our  abysmal 
wanderings?  It  would  doubtless  have  been  as  easy 
to  have  ordered  it  so.  No,  but  if  we  lack  trust  let 
us  admit  the  fault  lies  with  us  and  not  with  God. 

[171] 


WHERE  DWELLS  THE  SOUL  SERENE 

By  what  a  thread  hangs  the  life  of  a  foolish  man  that 
he  deems  it  in  a  fair  way  to  be  snapped  by  every 
trivial  occurrence. 

He  who  takes  his  tonic  from  the  air  of  mountains 
and  of  the  sea  where  it  is  always  on  draught  laughs 
at  pills  and  lotions.  The  drug  shop  is  Nature's  stand- 
ing joke.  Put  a  plaster  on  a  weasel  and  give  a  gargle 
to  the  woodchuck  and  you  shall  see  its  absurdity. 
They  have  credulity  to  spare  who  think  to  buy  their 
health  at  the  shops  by  the  ounce  or  grain.  Bottle 
the  air  and  sell  it  for  a  tonic  if  you  would  reap  untold 
fortunes.  He  is  the  great  benefactor  who  can  distil 
the  essence  of  pure  thought,  for  that  is  the  panacea. 
Open  your  mind  and  heart  to  the  divine  currents  of 
life  and  love  that  would  surge  into  your  being  and 
you  will  throw  physic — not  to  the  dogs,  but  into  the 
limbo  of  superstitions, — for  health  is  neither  bought 
nor  sold  but  is  free  to  healthy  minds,  as  free  as  air 
and  water  and  sunshine;  and  it  is  in  the  mortar  of 
the  mind  with  the  pestle  of  thought  that  we  shall 
compound  the  elixir  of  trust,  of  kindness  and  cheer- 
fulness. 

When  our  harp  of  thought  is  out  of  tune  we  have 
but  to  go  into  the  woods  and  pastures,  to  climb  a 
hill  or  follow  a  stream  to  have  Nature  give  us  the  key, 
and  in  a  twinkling  we  are  brought  into  accord  with 
her  sanity  and  made  sensible  of  the  divine  harmonies 
within  us.  It  is  a  common  illustration  of  the  power 
of  suggestion.  Our  moods,  our  vexations  and  dis- 
content are  all  mild  forms  of  dementia.  But  Nature 
is  eminently  sane;  she  will  have  none  of  our  moping 
and  complaining,  but  sends  a  red  squirrel  to  scold 
and  chatter  at  us,  or  a  chickadee  to  express  his  poise 

[172] 


THE  SOUL  OF  NATURE 

and  complacency.  She  utters  to  us  such  harmonious 
tinklings  and  murmurings  in  the  brook  flowing  under 
ice,  and  reveals  such  charms  in  tapering  icicles 
glistening  cheerily  in  the  sunshine,  that  we  become 
suddenly  ashamed  of  our  weakness,  and  our  lunacy 
vanishes  before  the  potent  spell  of  example.  Nature 
has  tadlfully  diverted  us  from  our  whims  and  infused 
her  sanity  and  health  into  our  receptive  minds,  while 
up  from  the  river  comes  the  faint  and  muffled  boom- 
ing of  the  ice  with  its  assurance  of  the  spring, 


[17S] 


